


the eve

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Happily Ever After, M/M, Magic and Prophecy, Mermaids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: On the rise of the eleventh as the cold waters stir, destined lovers shall bind, magic unknowable lying dormant in the deep beneath. Once broken but twice mended, they shall unwind the hands of time, skin and scale joined again under the light of the boundless sun.





	the eve

**Author's Note:**

> —Prompt T138

Chanyeol lives his life simply.

When he was twenty-one, about to head into his fourth year of his pre-law program, he decided that this was not the life for him. It was hard, looking in the mirror, looking into his own eyes, and admitting that he had made a mistake. It was years, years of schooling, testing, preparation, and planning that he was running away from. But to sink more time into it, sink more energy into something that didn't make him happy? That would have been the real tragedy.

He packed up his things and left without another word.

It has been three years since he arrived on the shores of the Singing Coast, a spot he remembered from when he was a kid on beach vacations with his parents. It’s been three years since he started his new life. A new life that embraces what makes him _him_.

Chanyeol walks along the beach for a while, the morning winds combing through his hair as the sun comes up over the horizon, painting the world in reds and pinks. He pauses, digs his toes into the soft white sand underfoot, and he lets the waves timidly approach, pushing close and closer still before they lap against his ankles.

He stares out at the line where sun meets sea, and he patiently waits for the day to stretch her arms. He yawns with a stretch of his own then rolls his shoulders back with a grin.

The Singing Coast is a three-mile long stretch along the eastern seaboard where the winds whistle along the rocks and the waves are gentle and kind. The shore is always dotted with the most stunning seashells Chanyeol's ever seen. He's taken up the habit of collecting the most beautiful, the most precious.

He works as the groundskeeper and the maintenance man for a bed and breakfast. There's a large garage on the property, behind the main house, and that's where he lives. When he first arrived, it was quite dingy, smelling of motor oil and old paint and filled with power tools and rusty gardening tools, but he's lived here long enough now that he's fixed his place up quite nicely. He's always been good with his hands, likes to make things, fix things. In his spare time, he’s made several wind chimes from the seashells he finds, and the couple he works for even lets him hang some of them on the front porch of the house next to the pastel-painted Adirondack rocking chairs. 

Looking down, his eyes skim over the surrounding sands, waiting for the ocean to push in some of her treasures. It is incredible, the way she answers him. With two more pushes of the waves, the drops of water leaping up to meet the bottom of his shorts, he stares down in front of him and sees a jingle shell, thin and icy blue. It is almost _otherworldly_, and he crouches down as the tides pull back, picking up the shell in awe.

He runs his fingers along the iridescent ridges, smiling to himself, and when the waves come back in, he holds onto the small shell tightly so as to not lose it as he rinses the sand away from it.

Chanyeol stands up straight and holds the shell in front of the sun, mesmerized by the way the light reflects off of it, almost glittering, one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen. Each day is like this, some new wonder to discover. 

Once upon a time, he wondered if he would come to regret his decision, but he’s never come close.

Satisfied with his find, he pockets the shell, and he turns his back on the ocean for the morning. He doubts he'll put a shell so special in a chime. No, one so pretty will need to be displayed properly.

He lives a simple life. A happy life. And while it might get lonely sometimes, it never stays that way for very long.  
  


♆

It is a short walk back from the beach to the house, but it is a pleasant walk. The town next to the Singing Coast is called Aria, and it's populated sparsely in the fall and winter months. There is an undeniable charm about it, though, even at the end of October, the streets mostly empty. He knows almost everyone there is to know here, and as he walks past bakeries, cafes, ice cream shops, leisure stores, specialty goods stores, and many, many beach supply shops, he waves to the rest of the locals he sees strolling along the sidewalks.

It took him a while to get used to their brand of hospitality, but once they accepted him as one of their own, it felt like being part of the family.

He stops into Joe & Go, making sure the bottoms of his shoes aren't covered in wet sand before he walks in. The doorbell tinkles, and the man at the register, tall and thin with greying hair and gold-rimmed circular spectacles, smiles at him. 

"Usual?" Isaac asks.

"Yep, thank you," Chanyeol says.

Isaac turns, goes to the large machine, and works on getting Chanyeol his coffee.

"How's it out there?" Isaac asks, back turned to Chanyeol.

"Nice day. Real nice," Chanyeol says. "Water's not too cold to go for a swim. I know you're sensitive about that kind of thing."

"You won't catch me out there," Isaac laughs, shivering as if for comedic effect. "You're crazy."

"Ah, it's not so bad," Chanyeol jokes. “Thirty-two degrees? That’s child’s play.” 

Isaac turns just as he's sliding the cardboard sleeve over the cup, and once he's finished, he slides it across the counter to Chanyeol. Even the smell is enough to wake Chanyeol up; it's the breakfast blend, light and fresh on the palate, and has only a hint of cream, exactly the way he likes it.

Chanyeol makes to pull out his wallet, but Isaac holds up his hands, takes a little step back from the register. Chanyeol frowns.

"On the house this morning," Isaac says.

"But I have to pay!"

"You've done quite enough, young man. That wind chime was something else, kiddo," he says. "I've never seen her so happy. She won't stop bragging about it to her friends."

Chanyeol hides a little smile. For their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, he made them a chime out of coral-colored capiz. It was the least he could do; they're practically his grandparents down here. Even still, he has to admit that he did think it was one of his best projects. Knowing that she liked it… it fills him with an overwhelming sense of pride.

"You can't just not take my money," Chanyeol says. "That's illegal."

"Well, then call the cops on me," Isaac says, and he folds his arms across his chest stubbornly. "Get out of here. I heard you're supposed to be tending to that front garden today before the real cold starts coming in."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, but as he turns, walks away, he offers a little wave over his shoulder as he walks out of the shop. 

“Have a good one!” Isaac calls, and Chanyeol smiles to himself, hand warm around his cup of coffee. 

It is not long after that he stops into the doughnut shop called The Dirty Dozen. The girl working the counter is the daughter of the owner. Her name is Sandhya, and she’s got long dark hair, big brown eyes, and a pretty smile. When she sees him come in, she immediately straightens up, making him huff out a laugh.

“Shouldn’t you be back at school?” he asks. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Great, now I’m getting it from you, too,” Sandhya says, going to the long glass case with a sheet of wax paper in her hand. “I swear, it’s like you’re an extension of my parents.” 

“I just asked a question!” 

“A very _loaded_ question,” she argues as she sticks her arm into the case, grabs him their specialty: an orange blossom glazed doughnut dusted with powdered sugar. “I’m taking a semester off to… figure out what I wanna do.” 

She says it delicately, like she’s been rehearsing it over and over again. Chanyeol smiles at the thought. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, gesturing to himself, “not like I can judge.” 

“Yeah,” she squints. “Dropout.” 

“Shut up,” he says, but he takes the doughnut when she reaches out to hand it to him with a smile. “But seriously, I think it’s smart. No reason to rush through something and potentially waste time and money if you’re not sure about it.” 

Sandhya is sweet, but she normally has quite a thick wall of sarcasm built up around her, something that she learned from television or social media or being hurt too many times, but in that moment, the wall falls down, and her eyes go glassy. 

“Yeah?” she says, blinking quickly and he nods eagerly. “Thanks. It’s, um… it’s been kind of a challenge.” She gestures to the back room as they walk back to the register. “With them.” 

He sighs, gives her a little smile. 

“I won’t tell you it’ll definitely get easier,” Chanyeol says. “I mean, it might? It might not? But… sometimes you have to prioritize yourself, you know? You’re smart. You know what you’re doing. It’s just hard for parents to understand shit like that sometimes. Because all they really want is for you to be successful, and they’ve got this… this plan for what they think will make you successful. Just… don’t feel too bad about changing the plan, okay? It’s not… it doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“Y-Yeah,” she says, staring at the floor and nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.” She lifts her head slowly, aims her pretty smile at him. “Thank you. I sort of needed that.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “No problem. So, uh, doughnut free of charge?” Sandhya reaches over the counter and smacks him on the arm. He yelps in response. “This is no way to treat customers!” 

“_Paying_ customers.” She sticks her hand out with a grin, very much the little sister he never had. “Come on, pony up the dough, son.” 

He sticks his hand into his pocket, pulls out three dollars, sticking two into her hand, the other into the tip jar decorated with highlighter polka dots. 

“Thanks.” She smiles. “Come back tomorrow, okay? Bring your guitar. You gotta teach me how to do barres.” 

“Your hands are too small! The stretching won’t work.” 

“I can do it! Shut up about my hands!” she says. “Get out!” 

He smiles. “See you tomorrow.” 

She smiles back. “See you.”  
  


♆

He walks along the quiet streets, the smell of salt in the air as he eats his breakfast, sips his coffee. He doesn’t have too much work today; cleaning the front garden isn’t nearly as much work as the side ones, but he got those done last week, straightened and prepped for the cooler autumn months. Besides that, he’s supposed to take a look at Mr. and Mrs. Huang’s jeep. They told him there was a ticking sound coming from under the hood, so most likely, he thinks, it’ll be an exhaust manifold gasket replacement. That shouldn’t be too hard, and the part will be twenty-five bucks at most. He’ll have to run by the shop.

Chanyeol finally gets back home, and he heads around back, unlocking the door to his little pseudo-apartment and kicking off his shoes at the door. He installed some nice floating vinyl floors, which are easy to keep clean. The place is small, so he's able to heat it well enough with a space heater. It’s close enough to the main house that he doesn’t mind walking in through the back door to use the downstairs bathroom, especially when it comes at no cost to him. They pay him quite well, too, enough for a happy little living. It might not be forever, of course, but he’s made sure to save, not to spend on just _anything_. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t indulge in his passions sometimes. 

There’s a local comic shop in town, a place that caters to some of his nerdier interests, and now, at the end of his bed, he’s got a little chest where he stores all his comics. He collects some of the action figures, but he keeps them in the box, hangs up a shelf to display them. 

He’s got some posters on the wall, a little kitchenette that he put together himself, a small television and a loveseat, and a nook for reading. The chair there, in the far corner of the room, is the most comfortable spot in the place, and he curls up there most nights, legs over the arm, strumming his guitar—that is, when he’s too tired to walk to the beach to play. 

Chanyeol has a row of shadow boxes mounted on the wall, the bottom of each filled with glittering sand from the shore. That’s where he keeps the most special seashells, the most uniquely colored and shaped. There are some that are deep blues and purples, the most vibrant pinks and reds, colors that seem impossible. He’s never seen anything like them, not even when he searched for them on the internet. They must be rare, so he keeps them close, cherishes them as they deserve to be cherished.

He grabs his gardening boots, hunter green and made from thick rubber, and pulls them on over his socks. He grabs his gloves, too, a gag gift from Sandhya. They’re blue, dotted with small white hearts, and Chanyeol looks ridiculous in them, but they remind him of the heart of summer, so it brings him a little spot of joy, thinking about digging around in the dirt. 

He heads back out, grabs his tools from the shed, and makes his way back to the front yard. The house was built back at the turn of the century, or so Mrs. Huang told him when he first arrived. It’s unpretentious in its beauty, with a distinctly colonial design.he siding is a cheerful yellow, the railings and shutters a deep navy blue. The pillars are white and spiraled, and they give the home a natural, unassuming elegance. 

There are bags of mulch stacked up in the yard, and he takes a look around the garden beds that line the front of the house. There’s a small herb garden that Mrs. Huang and he tend to, so they’ll all need to be transported to the main house if they’d like to keep them through the winter. He’s got some long, thin indoor planters that he thinks will be perfect for them. 

The majority of the garden is now perennials, so he’ll need to look for signs of damage and rot before pruning them. Then, he’ll lay the mulch, working it into the soil to replenish some of the nutrients that the summer took away. First things first, though: weeding. 

He sits on the white stone wall and starts in a little patch, throwing the weeds into his little canvas bag. The Huangs are all about being eco-friendly, so the weeds will have to go in the compost later. He works his way through the left garden and then, circling the steps, he starts to work on the right. 

Altogether, the work takes him most of the day, so when Mrs. Huang rests her elbows on the railing, staring down at him, he smiles up at her, wiping the sweat away from his forehead with his arm. It’d be too much effort to take off the glove. 

“Need anything to drink?” she offers kindly. 

“No, ma’am, I’m all right,” Chanyeol says. “I’m just finishing up out here, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“_Out of my hair_,” she scoffs, and then, she says something, quickly and in Mandarin, that Chanyeol can’t even begin to parse. “You stupid boy.” 

“I’m twenty-four, ma’am.” 

“And you won’t make it past twenty-four if you keep calling me _ma’am_!” 

Mr. Huang opens the window, sticks his head out it. 

“_Lǎo po zǐ_,” he gripes, waving his hand at her. “Leave the child alone.” 

“I’m twenty four, sir,” Chanyeol says, but he is shushed into quiet. “Yes, sir.” 

Mrs. Huang merely walks to the window, shuts it, and holds it closed, looking very proud of herself. He loves them, loves their little bickering, loves the way they treat him as one of their own. Loves the way they remind him of his parents. It’s been a long time, and he should visit home more. Mrs. Huang never fails to tell him so. 

“After this,” she says, gesturing with one hand, the other firmly planted on the window that her husband is trying to raise, “and after the car, you take the rest of the day off.” 

“But I’ve got to…”

“But nothing,” she says. “Take the day off!” 

Chanyeol thinks about it, and he tries to remember the last time he took a day off completely. He can’t remember. 

“You,” Mrs. Huang says as she waggles her finger at him. “You need to go home. Visit your parents. Your sister.” 

“Okay, okay,” Chanyeol says. “Sometime soon, all right?” She narrows her eyes, and even when he looks away, starts back in on finishing his work, Chanyeol can still feel her gaze on the back of his neck. “Promise,” he shouts cheerfully over his shoulder, and only _then_ does she disappear back into the house.  
  


♆

They step into November with the gardens winterized, and as the first two weeks of November pass, Chanyeol realizes yet again that this is his least favorite time of the year. In the spring and summer, there is so much to do, so much to prepare for. There’s always something to fix or plant, always someone new to talk to. Fall and winter, these months mean loneliness. These months mean _boredom_.

Chanyeol sits at the kitchen table as Mrs. Huang chops scallions for dinner, chin perched in his hands. 

“You remind me of my son when he was a child,” she says with a smile, and then, she turns, waving a big chef’s knife at him. “Go play outside.” 

Chanyeol huddles into his sweater. “Too cold to play outside.” 

She laughs, throwing her head back so her hair falls in a wave over her shoulder. 

“Tea?” she offers. 

He frowns. He could go for some hot chocolate, but she only ever offers him tea. 

“When are you going to get married, hm?” She points the tip of the knife at him. “You’re getting old.” 

“Jeez,” he says. “Don’t remind me.” 

“Just saying. You’re not getting any younger. You have to find a nice girl.” 

“Boy,” he clarifies. 

“Right, right,” she says, picking up the cutting board and sliding the scallions into the waiting bowl. “Boy. I’ll pay the adoption fee. Find a baby. Let me help take care of it.” 

He smiles, thinking. He’s never really let himself think of being a father before. Would he be good at it? Would they learn to love him? Would he and… would he and whoever the other parent was be happy? He never lets himself think on things because he’s pretty sure he won’t ever make it that far. What’s the point in daydreams if they won’t ever come true?  
  


♆

In the evening, he gets tired of watching reruns of old game shows, so he quickly grabs his guitar and walks to the beach.

It is a common occurrence, of course, and it is one of the most lovely things about his life. He always has the chance to get inspired, always has a song that comes to him along the singing breeze. He never writes any of them down. He prefers to let them come and go as they please. Capturing something so beautiful, taking it and holding it close simply because you didn't want to lose it… Chanyeol doesn't know much, but he thinks that beauty should live freely.

He kicks off his shoes at the end of the wooden walk that leads to the shore, and he digs his toes into the cold sand before trudging over to his normal spot. He imagines it must have once been a sharp rock, the tip eroded and softened by years of waves crashing over it, certainly comfortable enough for an hour or two of strumming.

Chanyeol climbs up onto the rock, and he lets his legs dangle over the edge, the tips of his toes barely brushing against the foaming water when it comes in. For a couple moments, he does not play, only stares out at the horizon. The sun is setting fast, the light dying from the world, and it is hauntingly beautiful, the way the color drains from the sky, replaced by the black of night. He stares, lets his mind wander, lets his eyes blink slowly as though he's on the edge of falling asleep.

This is the calmest place in the world, he thinks, the best place to think, and he thinks about everything here. What it means to be a person, what goodness is, what the world would be like without music. Does he need someone? Is the loneliness in his heart real, or does he just _think_ he should be lonely so he's trying to convince himself that he is, that he yearns for the love of another? Is there a difference between them, between pure desire and desire that is taught?

_Don't be silly_, he tells himself. _You're not lonely. You have everything you could ever need right here, in the palm of your hand._

He picks up his guitar, and he starts to play. Short twinkling melodies fall from his fingertips like stars falling from the sky, and he just focuses on the night, on the breadth of it, the enormity of the tempered silence, the soft hushes of waves against rocks.

The street lights flicker on behind him just as the sun finally dips down below the waves, and it is then that the inspiration really hits.

The singing emerges from seemingly nowhere as the winds start to push and pull through the cove, and he hears the whistling, the soprano of it sweet and tender, but then, something in his imagination… it grips him.

The voice is soft, like velvet or chenille or something infinitely softer as it glides over the surface of the water. Chanyeol closes his eyes, savors it, and he plays along underneath it, the most beautiful voice he's ever heard. In that moment, Chanyeol regrets not recording, regrets not preserving this moment. He's always thought that beauty should be free, that it doesn't require keeping, but the singing of the winds, of the waters… it is always enough to make him question it. Surely, some things should be kept. 

He plays for a very long time, the waves crashing against the rocks, the water jumping up his ankles and calves as he plays. He opens his eyes, fingers still picking the little song, and the voice of the water is gone, the winds died down for the night. The night is still, does not rage or fight against the darkness. His eyes grow heavy, and when he checks the time, he realizes that he has been at the beach for much longer than he'd intended to be, playing on into midnight.

Chanyeol gets down from the rock, and his feet are wet with sand by the time he makes it back to the walk. He goes home barefoot, thinking about the chain of chords in his head. He can't seem to forget it, the way the world hummed along with him.  
  


♆

It is much the same for the next two weeks, same as it has always been. In the mornings, he walks along the sands, finds shells and sea glass of supreme beauty. He fixes two of the upstairs toilets (with an old house, there are plenty of plumbing issues), he plants some heather and winter-flowering pansies in the front garden for some color, and every night, he goes to the beach.

Every night, he sings with the waves. Every night, he sings with the winds. Every night, same as he’s done for the past three years, he makes music. And everything is simple.  
  


♆

On the morning that everything changes, everything feels normal. He gets up with a great stretch, pads through the room, starts to putter around. He sets the coffee pot to brew, and as the smell fills his lungs, he opens the door, and he stands in the chilly November air. It is bracing, especially so close to the shore, and he shuts his eyes, lets it overwhelm him for a moment, watering eyes and daydreams in his head.

He drinks his coffee in the doorway, lets the cold creep into his fingers as the heat warms his stomach. He's in a… a strange mood, but he doesn't know where it comes from. Doesn't understand it at all.

He doesn't have much work to attend to, so he figures he'll head in the house, check on the Huangs after he's finished with his morning routine.

Chanyeol dresses. He's used to the cold, so he wears only a thermal, dark green in color, and a pair of jeans. When he goes out for the morning, he sees everyone bundled up in coats and scarves. _Beach people_, he thinks before realizing that he too is one of those beach people. He's got a jacket slung over his arm, just in case the whistling winds really pick up. 

He grins as he thinks about it, walking the short distance to the beach. He should have brought a cup of coffee, and while he considers stopping on the way, something tells him not to. His conscience has never steered him wrong before, so he figures it’s best to just keep listening. He strolls, takes his time on his walk, and he looks up to dark morning sky. He'll just make it, he thinks.

Chanyeol hurries in the final stretch, and when he slips his shoes off at the beginning of the sand, the sunrise has just begun. The crisp little dot of orange screams at the horizon, a blistering color against the brightening day. Soon, the colors begin to shatter and break, magenta, violet. Blood orange, raspberry, strawberries. Fruit in crystallizing flames. It is beautiful, of course, but it is different, and when the sunbeams start to stretch, the sun rising from the water, Chanyeol thinks, _There is something magical about this place._

He watches the world become new again, a whole new opportunity to do something good, and just as he's thinking it, just as the very words leap to his brain, he feels something.

A tap on his shoulder, and then, a soft, timid voice. 

“Excuse me.” 

When he turns, he jumps a little, shocked by… an absolute vision. 

Standing before him is a rather slight man with dark hair, a curl of it dripping wet across his forehead. He has bright green eyes, the color of seaweed dancing through the water, and his skin is clear, soft-looking. His lips are rosy red, and though his mouth is small, his lips are plush. Despite the beauty of each individual little bit, the whole of him is greater than the sum of its parts, and when he smiles, oh, Chanyeol has fallen in love from the very start. 

His clothes are wet, dripping and clinging to his body, and Chanyeol feels cold just by looking at him, the man's straight white teeth chattering a little as he stares at Chanyeol.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says. “I… I didn’t see you.” 

“No, um, it’s quite all right,” the man says, and he is glowing, dewy skin that glistens in the sun. “I suppose I snuck up on you, didn’t I?” 

Chanyeol laughs, immediately charmed by the way the boy smiles at him. 

“Yeah, a bit. But that’s okay. Um, are you okay? You’re sort of…” 

“Wet?” He smiles. “Yes, just a bit.” 

For some reason, it doesn’t feel like a pressing issue, so Chanyeol doesn’t press it. 

“I… I don’t think I’ve seen you around before?” 

“No,” the man says. “I only just arrived.” 

Chanyeol looks around. November is nearly split in half now, and the beaches are near empty. Aria becomes a ghost town when the summer ends, and it’s not that they have _no_ visitors during the off-season, but it’s nowhere near the density of humanity it normally is. Chanyeol often finds the beach totally free of anyone else.

“How long are you in town for?” Chanyeol asks. “I’m sort of, like, a local. I could show you around a little.” 

“I would hate to impose,” he says with another dazzling smile. “After all, I’m afraid I’m only here for the day.” 

“Oh.” Chanyeol frowns. He thought that maybe he’d found a new friend, someone closer to his age. “That’s a shame.” 

“It is.” 

He sparkles in the sun, and even the sweat along his brow is gorgeous. Chanyeol has to bite his lip to stop from saying something silly like, _You are so pretty_. Instead, he tries for practicality. 

“So… c-can I help you with anything?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Yes,” the man says, and he frowns, hands folded in front of his body. “I… I’m here all alone, and I’ve… I’ve never been good at being by myself before.” 

Chanyeol smiles, sees a tenderness in him that cannot be replicated. 

“Really? I’m sort of the opposite,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve always been good at it. Too good at it, maybe.” 

“Do you think you could show me how?” the man asks with a hopeful smile. 

He is like a little kid, naive and sweet, and Chanyeol feels the distinct and overwhelming urge to protect him.

“How to be by yourself?”

“Yes.” 

He stares up at Chanyeol through long lashes, and Chanyeol wonders if he knows how tempting he looks, if he knows that he looks like he’s waiting to be kissed. 

“How about I buy you a cup of coffee?” Chanyeol says with a flirtatious little grin. “And we can work on it.” 

“Yes, all right,” he accepts, a pleased smile on his face, a hint of a blush on his cheeks as the winds start to pick up around them. “I think… I think that would be very nice. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol says, and he points back towards town. “There’s a little place I go right up there. If, uh, if you wanted to.” 

“Yes.” He nods, reaching out to hold Chanyeol around the wrist. “Yes, please.” 

A little thrill of red, ribboned pleasure dances through Chanyeol’s stomach, and it occurs to him then how long it’s been since he’s had someone touch him with intention. 

“Sure.” And they start to walk, the sand slipping under their feet. “What’s, um, what’s your name?” 

He looks up at Chanyeol, big green eyes bright like a child’s, open and young as if he’s never been hurt before. 

“Junmyeon,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you. And your name is…” 

“Chanyeol,” he says. “Nice to meet you too.”  
  


♆

When they enter the Joe & Go, Isaac stares at him with wide eyes that appear even wider because of the strong prescription of his glasses.

The walk to the coffee shop was quiet as Chanyeol had no idea what to say to Junmyeon. He was exceptionally cold, and Chanyeol had thrown the jacket over his shoulders even as Junmyeon said he didn’t need it, the arms hanging limp at his sides.

Slowly, Chanyeol directs him to one of the small tables, the tops ceramic and laid with a baby blue and white mosaic, and then, he heads to the counter alone.

"Who is that?" Isaac whispers. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," Chanyeol whispers back. "I found him on the beach."

"Is that the way the kids do it now? I would think that things would get easier as technology advanced, not more… befuddled."

"S-Shut up. He's, like, weird…"

"So you took him to my coffee shop?" Isaac asks, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, you're very smart, aren't you?"

"Not, like, _weird_ weird," Chanyeol says hurriedly. "Just sort of… strange?"

"Well, he's dripping all over my floor," Isaac says, and he turns, shoves a roll of paper towels into Chanyeol's hands. "Go clean him up. I'll get your coffee ready."

Chanyeol smiles, and he walks back over to Junmyeon who smiles up at Chanyeol like he hung the sun and the moon.

"Hi," Junmyeon says. "Is that your friend?"

"Y-Yeah," Chanyeol says. "He's a friend."

"What's his name?" Junmyeon asks.

"Isaac," Chanyeol answers.

"_Isaac_," Junmyeon tests, the syllables clunky in his mouth. "Isaac."

Chanyeol feels endeared even by this which is how he knows he's in deep trouble. He lowers himself to the ground, kneeling at Junmyeon's side.

"Chanyeol?" Junmyeon asks with a tilt of his head. "What's the matter?"

"O-Oh, it's…," and he gestures below Junmyeon. "You're dripping."

"Oh," Junmyeon laughs. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's… it's no trouble," Chanyeol says, and he quickly unrolls a tragic amount of paper towels, mopping up the little puddle of water under Junmyeon's seat. "So, what happened?"

"What happened?" Junmyeon asks, another tilt of his head before, "Oh, yes. Of course. I… I fell in."

"You fell in?" Chanyeol asks.

"I did. The water can be very dangerous." He smiles, then looks sullen for a moment, and Chanyeol supposes that, on the whole, it must have been quite a scary experience. "I'm sorry for making you help me."

"You're not making me do anything," Chanyeol says. "I'm just… I'm sorry you're cold."

"Oh, I'm not cold," Junmyeon says. "You don’t need to worry about me."

"What are you talking about?" Chanyeol says. "You were shivering back on the beach."

He reaches out, touches the side of Junmyeon's face, and he is like ice water, so shockingly cold that Chanyeol instinctively flinches back.

"I'm quite all right," Junmyeon says. "Please, sit. I'm sorry I am troubling you so greatly this morning."

"N-No," Chanyeol says, and he leaves a little stack of paper towels under the chair before he gets up, sits opposite Junmyeon at the table. "It's no trouble. I promise."

Junmyeon gives him another beautiful smile, the kind that could make Chanyeol do just about anything.

"You have such a kind heart," Junmyeon says, and he reaches out, takes Chanyeol's hand in his over the table. "Thank you so much for helping me."

His touch is so frigid, but when Chanyeol looks down to his hands, they are just pale, not turning blue, not freezing black or anything.

"You don't need to thank me," Chanyeol says. "I'm not doing anything special."

Junmyeon bites his lip as he stares down at his lap, smiles through it. He is exceptionally pretty, Chanyeol thinks, more beautiful than anything else he's ever seen in the world.

"Coffee with cream," Isaac says, and he sets the mug down in front of Chanyeol, and then he sets a cup of hot water in front of Junmyeon with an encouraging pat to the back. "Thought it might be good to have some tea, what do you say?"

Junmyeon sparkles as he smiles up at Isaac.

"Yes, thank you so much, sir," Junmyeon says.

Isaac smiles down at him, places a little caddy of tea bags in front of him. "Pick whichever you think you'd like best." He taps the blue labeled one in the front. "Though the Ocean Tea is my favorite."

"Ocean Tea?" Junmyeon asks with interest. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Oh, it's just one of those things," Isaac says, waving his hand. "It's butterfly pea tea. With blueberry, spearmint, and lavender."

“Oh,” Junmyeon says, his pretty smile sweeping across his face again. “Oh, yes, of course. Just one of those things.” He picks one up, ripping the top and smelling it. “Mm! This is _divine_. What do I do with it?” 

Isaac looks to Chanyeol, and Chanyeol looks to Isaac before looking back to Junmyeon. 

_Maybe he’s just really rich?_ Chanyeol can’t even begin to understand not knowing how to use a tea bag, but… 

“Uh, I’ll help him,” Chanyeol says to Isaac. “Oh, and could you maybe…?” 

Isaac rolls his eyes, turns around. “Yeah, two bagels with cream cheese, I got it, I got it.” He crosses back, busying himself.

Chanyeol reaches out, takes the tea bag. 

“You’re fancy, huh?” Chanyeol says. “You only do loose leaf?” 

Junmyeon stares at him blankly for several seconds, blinking his big, doe-like eyes once or twice. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says quickly. “Yes, that is the tea I’m familiar with.” He smiles again at Chanyeol, so charming that Chanyeol would probably explain how a toilet worked if Junmyeon needed it. “I must apologize. I’m sure I seem so silly.” 

“N-No,” Chanyeol says, and he dunks the tea bag in the water, watches the blue start to spread like clear ocean water. “You don’t seem silly. It’s, uh, it’s sort of cute, actually.” 

“Cute?” Junmyeon tilts his head to the side, the wet hair flapping into his eyes before he brushes it away. “In what way, Chanyeol?” 

“I dunno.” He dunks the tea bag up and down a few more times. “Just cute.” 

Junmyeon smiles brightly at him, covering Chanyeol’s hand with his, stilling the movement. Chanyeol almost throws him off, so jolted by the cold, but he halts himself, staring into Junmyeon’s eyes. 

“W-What?” Chanyeol says. 

“I find you cute, too,” Junmyeon says. “You’re very nervous.” 

“Oh, uh… yeah, I’m just… just, like, not sure what to do with you yet?” 

“Do with me?” Junmyeon’s eyes crinkle with another smile. “What is there to do with me?” 

“S-Show you the town?” Chanyeol offers. 

Junmyeon’s eyes go wide with hope, like he’s been waiting for Chanyeol to say just that. 

“I would love it,” Junmyeon says. “I would love it so very much.” 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and when Junmyeon’s hands tighten on his, a smile rings out across his face unbidden. “Yeah, uh, I can show you where I live and where I work, I can show you the doughnut shop, the music shop, the library… uh, pretty much wherever you wanna go.” 

“You are so kind.” He squeezes Chanyeol’s hands again, still just as ice cold, like he’s leaching the warmth away, but in the best sort of way. “Thank you so much. What would I do without you?” 

Chanyeol stares at him, enraptured already, tangled up in his knots. 

“Ahem.” 

Both of them look to Isaac who holds two plates before them. They have to split their hands awkwardly as he sets them down in front of them. 

“I expect you’ll be settling the bill?” Isaac prompts, cocking an eyebrow at Chanyeol. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not gonna skip out on me?” 

“_Isaac._” 

“Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll leave you two kids alone… but, uh, best not let that steep _too_ long,” Isaac says, gesturing to the mug of tea. “It’ll get cold in a minute or two.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Junmyeon smiles. “But thank you so much, Isaac. You’ve been such a good friend to me.” 

Isaac looks down at him like he can’t quite figure out where he came from, and Chanyeol knows the feeling. He walks back to the register after giving Junmyeon another little smile, and then Chanyeol picks up half of his bagel. 

Junmyeon watches as Chanyeol takes a bite, swallows, follows it up with a sip of his coffee. It then occurs to Chanyeol… he didn’t even ask. Maybe Junmyeon is gluten-free? 

“Uh, are you gluten-free?” 

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Chanyeol stares down at Junmyeon’s bagel, untouched. 

“Should I get you something else?” Chanyeol offers. 

“Oh, no, this looks wonderful.” He picks up a half. “I was just… I enjoy watching you. Is that silly of me?” 

More heat pulses through Chanyeol’s body, like Junmyeon says things without realizing how they sound. Like Junmyeon isn’t at all aware of the effect he’s having on Chanyeol. 

“No, uh, it’s not silly,” Chanyeol says, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry.” 

“What are you apologizing for?” Junmyeon laughs. “You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you are helping me quite a bit. And I am ever in your debt.”  
  


♆

They stay for long enough that Junmyeon’s clothes dry. Chanyeol offers him a change of clothes, offers a warm shower, but Junmyeon denies him happily, tells Chanyeol to go about his day as if Junmyeon isn’t even here.

Chanyeol doesn’t think he could manage such a thing. Junmyeon is too bright. Too noticeable. Too… too interesting. 

Chanyeol fishes his money out of his pocket, slides it to Isaac who stares back at him with a funny look. 

“What,” Chanyeol says flatly. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Isaac says. “Enjoy your afternoon. I hope you bring your _new friend_ around some other time.” 

Chanyeol stares back at Junmyeon who is hurriedly cleaning up the paper towels off the floor, mopping up all the water. As if he’s called, Junmyeon looks up, his dark head popping up, and he smiles as he sees them both staring at him. He waves goofily. 

“He’s only here for the day,” Chanyeol says. 

“Pity,” Isaac says. “You need some love in your life, son.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Isaac grabs the left side of his chest, like Chanyeol has mortally wounded him, and then he smiles brightly. 

“Go on.” He gestures back to Junmyeon, who is now standing by the trash can, the shoulders of the jacket draped over him making him look very small. “Tend to your ward.” 

He frowns. "Ward" makes it sound like they’re Batman and Robin. He’s always been more of a Marvel fan. 

“Whatever. See you tomorrow,” Chanyeol groans. 

He walks back across the shop, Junmyeon smiling as Chanyeol approaches. 

“Well, that’s breakfast out of the way,” Chanyeol says. “Uh, let’s see. What’s next on the agenda?” 

“Whatever you’d like to do, Chanyeol!” He has all the easy enthusiasm of a kid, and Chanyeol finds himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. “Is there anything you need to do today? I’m happy to simply come along for the proverbial ride.” 

“Well, I’d been meaning to pick up a few things from the hardware store,” Chanyeol says, “but I don’t think that would be fun for you.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it will be a very enlightening experience for me,” Junmyeon says. As they step out of the shop, the door jingling behind them, Junmyeon turns, hands proudly at his waist. “Lead the way!” 

Chanyeol feels a curious smile jump to his face. 

“All right, then,” Chanyeol says, “let’s go.”  
  


♆

It is a short walk to the little hardware store over on Peach, just ten minutes or so, but it feels even shorter thanks to the conversation that he and Junmyeon share. Junmyeon is so interested in him, wants to know everything about him, and Chanyeol has a difficult time turning the questions back around because they are ceaseless. And besides, it feels nice to meet someone new, to talk to them about himself. Chanyeol can’t deny that.

So he tells Junmyeon of his childhood, of his aborted degree, of his cancelled life plans, of what he does for a living now. The simplicity of it all. Junmyeon listens with such ferocity, and Chanyeol wonders if this is what celebrities feel like, people interested in the most menial details of your life. 

“You have such a strong heart, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says as they walk through the door, the bell twinkling as they enter. “Leaving your home like that… was it ever difficult on you?” 

“I can always go visit if I want,” Chanyeol says with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Huangs are really nice about that sort of thing. Plus, I don’t know… have you ever felt like you just had to get away? Like… like you were being suffocated by something? And that it was… that it was super important for you to leave the nest?” 

“The nest?” 

Chanyeol smiles. Maybe English isn’t his first language? 

“Where you grew up,” Chanyeol clarifies. “Your childhood home.” 

Junmyeon smiles sadly, the halogen lights overhead reflecting light against his dark hair, almost like… almost like he’s got a halo hanging above him. 

“Yes, I’ve known that feeling,” Junmyeon says. “I know that feeling well. Sometimes I fear it is too late for me.” 

They are standing there in the middle of a dusty hardware store, and still, it feels like one of the most romantic moments of Chanyeol’s life. Is he this lonely? Desperate? 

He doesn’t care about any of that. 

“It’s never too late,” Chanyeol says. “I mean, I know I don’t really… I don’t really know you that well or anything, but you seem like a really great person. I mean, I like you a lot. And you seem more than capable. Because, like, I think the most responsible, mature thing a person can do is know when to ask for help.” He stares down at the tiled floor, scuffs the tip of his shoe against it. “So I just… I think that if you wanna do something, you should do it. Or at least try. Nothing bad comes from trying.” 

Chanyeol continues to stare at his feet, a bit too vulnerable for his liking, but when the silence stretches on, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he looks up, sees Junmyeon’s eyes sparkling with tears. 

Junmyeon leaps forward, his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. A sound of surprise is shocked out of Chanyeol, but he quickly swallows it, holding Junmyeon around the waist in the strangest, most beautiful embrace of Chanyeol’s whole life. 

“Oh, Chanyeol, I’m just so happy to have found you,” Junmyeon says, and he squeezes Chanyeol to him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.” 

“F-For what?” 

Junmyeon pulls back from the hug, smiling up at Chanyeol, standing on his tiptoes. 

“For being you,” Junmyeon says, like it is the simplest and most obvious answer in the entire world. 

“Hey!” 

They both whip their heads around, looking at Mr. Hodges seated behind the register. He is a burly old man with a bushy black mustache, staring at them with big eyes, made bigger by thick black eyeglasses with thick lenses. He shakes his fist at Chanyeol. 

“Get out of the doorway,” he says. “Buy something or leave.” 

“R-Right, sorry,” Chanyeol says, and he takes Junmyeon by the hand, leads him down an aisle, away from Mr. Hodges’s prying eyes. Chanyeol whispers back to Junmyeon as he moves. “Sorry, I just need a couple things. It’ll only take a minute.” 

“No need to apologize, Chanyeol, this is all utterly fascinating,” Junmyeon says with delight. “What’s this for?” Chanyeol looks back, finds Junmyeon holding a paint chip color wheel, fanning it out. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol smiles. “It’s, um, for like, painting a house? When you wanna pick colors. I guess you’ve never painted before?” 

“No, but it sounds wonderful!” Junmyeon says. “So many colors.” 

“Yeah, there are… there are lots.” He turns back around, grabs a few of the small oak dowels that he needs. “Sorry, just a few more things.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Junmyeon bumps his shoulder into Chanyeol’s. “Might I ask what you’re working on?” 

“It’s an old house,” Chanyeol says, picking up a small file. “There’s a cracked stair tread, so I thought that, like, instead of replacing it and messing it up, I could just glue it back together with a few of these dowels in there to keep it together.” 

“Well, that’s a very smart idea,” Junmyeon says happily. “What more do you need to accomplish such a task?” 

“Just some yellow carpenter's glue,” Chanyeol says, pointing behind Junmyeon. “Should be just over there.” 

Junmyeon spins, begins to traipse his way across the store, and Mr. Hodges judges from his seat at the register. Chanyeol keeps his eyes down low, hiding a smile as he watches Junmyeon touch various kinds of glue.  
  


♆

They walk through the town, and Chanyeol shows him the landmarks, all the little things he’s picked up while living here. They pass plenty of people that Chanyeol knows, locals and business owners walking into their shops or heading out, and they always stop for a talk. Junmyeon asks them questions, and they always look confused but happy to answer.

For lunch, Chanyeol decides to bring Junmyeon to the taco truck that stays open year round, and they sit on a little picnic bench, eating fresh blackened cod tacos with a cabbage slaw and homemade chips and guacamole. Junmyeon doesn’t look cold at all, but when their hands brush, he is freezing. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” 

“Positive,” Junmyeon says with a smile, and there is a dot of green by the corner of his mouth that Chanyeol can’t ignore. 

He stands up, reaches out before he can tell himself to do otherwise, and Junmyeon watches him, eyes locked with eyes as Chanyeol brushes it away. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says quietly, sitting back down. “You just had a little…” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, soft. “Yes, of course.”  
  


♆

The library is on Warren, and Junmyeon looks at the trees with wonder, delighted as he watches the orange and red leaves fall to the sidewalk. It reminds Chanyeol of grade school for some reason, all of it put together, and he feels an intense burst of nostalgia in his chest, a yearning that he cannot explain or assign a name to.

It is quiet when they walk inside, and there are not many people inside, only a mother and her very young daughter, too young for schooling. Chanyeol looks at them and smiles, and Junmyeon waves to the little girl with a goofy smile on his face. 

“Oh, I love children,” Junmyeon says, hands clasped together in front of him like he’s a Disney princess. Chanyeol can’t even work up enough disingenuity to comment on it, far too charmed by it. Junmyeon leads the way, walking back to the stacks, hands on the wood of the shelves. “What sorts of books do you read, Chanyeol?” He looks over his shoulder with a smile, fingers trailing over leather. 

“Uh, lots of different things,” Chanyeol says, when in reality, the answer is much closer to _grimdark fantasy_. “What about you?” 

“Not much.” He looks sadly upon the books, traipsing up and down the aisles. 

Chanyeol follows him dutifully, barely paying attention to anything besides Junmyeon, the way he seems to float on air as he moves. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says, his voice hushed as Junmyeon strokes his fingers along the spines of the books. “I know this is probably a little boring.” 

“No,” Junmyeon says. “I’ve never seen so many books in one place before.” 

Chanyeol looks around. Aria’s library isn’t exactly large. 

He snorts. “You don’t get out much, do you?” 

Junmyeon slides him a smile as he pulls a book out from the shelf, a green and gold hardback with _The Mythical Creatures Bible_ emblazoned across the front cover. 

“No, not really,” Junmyeon says, shyly turning his gaze down, but Chanyeol didn’t mean to make fun. 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says. “I’m… I mean, I don’t mind! I like showing people around. I like taking care of people.” 

Junmyeon glances up at him, so incredibly handsome that Chanyeol almost wishes he could blink and get a picture, capture this moment so that it can’t get away. 

“Really?” His eyes are so bright with hope, dazzling, and Chanyeol can’t help but reach out, brush the little curl of hair away from his forehead. “It’s quite lucky that I found you, then.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon say. “Very lucky, indeed.” 

They sit in the little children’s corner for most of the day. It has a pink and blue rug, a stuffed bunny rabbit that Junmyeon holds in his lap as they read quietly, Chanyeol with one of his grimdark fantasies, a man with a black cloak, a big sword, and a scowl on the cover, Junmyeon with his book about angels and demons and the like. Sometimes, Chanyeol looks up, watches Junmyeon for a while because it is unbelievable how well they get along, unbelievable with how well they fit together. Not only is he beautiful, but he is sweet, kind, and so very funny. 

Hours pass easily, and when Chanyeol checks his phone, he is shocked at the time. 

“Oh, it’s… it’s getting late,” Chanyeol says. “We should get going soon.” 

“Oh,” Junmyeon says, holding the book in one hand, pushing it up into the air as he stretches and yawns. “Yes, I suppose we’ve wasted the day away.” 

“Did you have fun at least?” Chanyeol asks. “I mean, if you came in the summer, there’s more to do. There’s an arcade, and there’s concerts sometimes, sometimes they show movies on the beach…” 

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, and he reaches out, takes Chanyeol’s hand, squeezes it in his own. “It was one of the best days of my life, I think.” 

“R-Really?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “Well… well, that’s very good. It was, uh, it was a good day for me too.” 

Junmyeon laughs, stands up before pulling Chanyeol to his feet as well. 

They go to rent their books out, and Junmyeon turns, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh, I’ve just realized! I won’t be able to return it,” he says nervously. “I won’t be around. Should I… I should go put it back, shouldn’t I?” 

“Nah,” Chanyeol says, and he takes the book, smiling at the librarian as he passes over his library card along with it. “I’ll make sure it gets back where it belongs.” 

“Do you promise?” Junmyeon asks, and he goes very austere. “This seems like very serious business, the loaning of books.” 

The librarian snorts, but Chanyeol grabs his hand, squeezes it in his. 

“I promise.”  
  


♆

The music shop over on Malvern is empty and quiet, the way it normally is during the colder months. It’s chock full of interesting items, exotic instruments on dusty shelves, and sometimes Chanyeol comes just to talk with the owner, see what new stuff she’s got in stock.

With Junmyeon, it is like seeing the place again for the first time. 

Junmyeon approaches everything with curious, gentle hands, and when Chanyeol starts to explain something or demonstrate how to use an instrument, Junmyeon listens, watches raptly. Chanyeol knows that some of it can be kind of boring, so he tries not to exhaust the point, tries not to ramble for too long. 

“Please,” Chanyeol says, grabbing a guitar from off the wall as he watches Junmyeon wander around, “let me know if it gets annoying.” 

Junmyeon whips his head around just as Chanyeol starts to fingerpick a sad little song, staring at Chanyeol with deadly serious eyes. 

“Chanyeol, you could never annoy me.” 

“O-Oh, I just mean—” 

“No,” Junmyeon says, like he means it, like he’s never meant anything more. “You are very interesting, and I am excited to hear about what you have to say.” 

Chanyeol’s fingers stop, and the music does too, all of Chanyeol’s focus going to Junmyeon, all of it condensed into one little spot of light. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. “I… I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to say stuff like that to me. I’m not trying to guilt trip you.” 

“You have never tripped me,” Junmyeon smiles. “I think I would remember such a thing.” 

Chanyeol furrows his brow with a laugh, starts to pick another little song, this one much happier than the one before.  
  


♆

The day gets away from them, settling into evening as they walk along the streets. Junmyeon moves close to him, and Chanyeol has to take care not to bump into him, lest he set them both off balance.

“Well, there are plenty of places we could go for dinner,” Chanyeol says, before checking the time on his phone, _5:56 p.m._ “But, uh, if you have to get out of here soon, I’d understand. You could always stop for something on the road.” 

“Oh, I think I have time for a meal,” Junmyeon says, staring off towards the horizon. “Twilight… that is when I must leave.” 

Junmyeon sometimes talks like he’s a thousand years old, and Chanyeol wonders where he grew up, wonders what he does for a living, wonders if he’s gay, if he’s had a boyfriend before. Wonders so many things. Doesn’t, hasn’t asked any of it. Momentarily, it overwhelms him, the lack of understanding between them, but he supposes he was always going to walk away from this wanting more. The day has been something like a miracle, something inexplicable and incredible, beyond the normal. Beyond simple. 

“Well, we’ve got options,” Chanyeol says happily. “What do you feel like eating?” 

“Do not mind me, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, just as happy. “We can eat wherever you normally eat!” 

Chanyeol scuffs the toe of his sneaker a little as they walk. 

“I, uh, I normally eat at home.” He glances over at Junmyeon who stares at him with those pretty, doe-like eyes. “Sorry, I mean… I don’t wanna be weird or anything, but that… that is normally where I eat.” 

Junmyeon turns his head to the side slightly, the little curl of hair falling back into his face. “Why would that be weird?” A light flashes in Junmyeon’s green eyes, bright like understanding, and he smiles, teasing. “Is it because you eat something strange, Chanyeol?” 

Chanyeol laughs, nudges his hand against Junmyeon’s. 

“No, I just thought it might come off as sort of presumptuous,” Chanyeol smiles. “Inviting someone back to your place right after you meet them.” 

“We’ve known each other all day. That’s practically forever!” Junmyeon says, and his teeth are white and straight as he returns Chanyeol’s smile. “Besides, what would be presumptuous about sharing a meal together?” 

There is something so childlike, innocent about him, and Chanyeol huffs as he laughs. 

“Nothing. Come on, follow me.”  
  


♆

Chanyeol holds out an arm, stops Junmyeon from walking any further.

“What’s the ma—” 

Chanyeol puts his hand in front of Junmyeon’s face, quieting him. He puts a finger to his own lips, and Junmyeon’s brows knit together like he’s confused. 

“Shh,” Chanyeol hushes with a point. 

Chanyeol lowers his hand, realizing that perhaps it wasn’t the best course of action, being so close to him, but Junmyeon just huddles close, speaking with a whisper. 

“Is that the lady of the house?” Junmyeon asks. “Mrs. Huang?” 

He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing. _The lady of the house_. Chanyeol expects that, if she ever heard it, Mrs. Huang would take to calling herself that until the end of time. 

Now, she is at the mailbox as they hide behind the bushes, speaking to the mailman as he finishes his route. Chanyeol’s plan goes as follows: wait for them to disperse, wait another minute just for safety’s sake, and then sneak Junmyeon back to the garage for some ramen that he can make with his hotplate. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “That’s her.” 

“And we are hiding,” Junmyeon notes, turning his head the way a puppy might. “For what reason are we hiding, Chanyeol?” 

“Uh… good question.” 

Chanyeol hadn’t really given it much thought, but he supposes he’s hiding Junmyeon because everyone hounds him about his love life, and while Junmyeon is handsome, funny, sweet, and altogether pretty perfect, he is only in town for one day, and he doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. In fact, he doesn’t want _himself_ to get the wrong idea, not after the way Junmyeon’s ice cold body against his own sets his teeth chattering with want. 

“I think I just… don’t wanna answer any weird questions with you around,” Chanyeol settles on. 

“Oh.” Junmyeon seems to turn the idea over in his head a couple times, the heads and tails of a coin. “What sort of questions?” 

“Just it’s gonna seem a little… bizarre,” Chanyeol says, trying to keep his voice down to a whisper as he keeps his eyes on Mrs. Huang, slapping the shoulder of the mailman as she talks about… _something_. “I’m, uh… well, I don’t know the last time I came out to anyone, but I’m gay. So it’ll be kinda weird. Me bringing a boy home.” 

“Gay.” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, turning away from Mrs. Huang to look back at the confusion on Junmyeon’s face. “W-What, is that, like, a problem?” 

“No, no,” Junmyeon says. “Of course not. Certainly not.” 

A feeling of relief washes over him, but Junmyeon’s face stays twisted up and tilted, like he’s in math class or something. 

“Why do you look like I just asked you to solve a riddle?” 

“I don’t always understand your vernacular,” Junmyeon says sheepishly. "Gay means..." 

“I like boys,” Chanyeol says. “That’s what gay means.” 

“O-Oh,” Junmyeon says, stepping back a bit. “I think that makes me gay as well.” 

A stupid shocked laugh falls out of Chanyeol’s mouth before he can stop it, and he grins at Junmyeon, bewildered. 

“What, did you, like, just have an awakening or something?” 

“No,” Junmyeon says simply. “I’ve always known.” 

Nothing about this magical boy makes any fucking sense. Nothing. And Chanyeol loves him for it. 

“Oh.” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, and he looks at Chanyeol’s face, eyes moving over his cheeks, his eyes, and his nose before settling on Chanyeol’s lips. “Oh.” 

The moment that follows is the kind that Chanyeol thought only existed in movies, pulled taut between them, hazy with light and chance. In that moment, Chanyeol thinks that he might lean forward, that Junmyeon lean forward to meet him, and that in that moment, they might find each other somewhere in the middle. 

“Chanyeol!” 

The voice is sharp, jarring and Chanyeol takes Junmyeon by the shoulder, about to pull him into the bushes, but it is too late. They’ve been spotted. 

Mrs. Huang has her arms full of letters as she walks over, eyebrows raised with a curious smile on her face. 

“I didn’t expect you to be home for dinner,” she says, looking him up and down, eyes zeroing in on where he’s touching Junmyeon. “Since you’d been out all day.” 

“Y-Yeah, well,” Chanyeol says, “you know me.” 

“Yes, I do,” Mrs. Huang says with a charming smile directed towards Junmyeon, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, _érxí_.” 

Chanyeol immediately groans, thinks _This is the exact reason, I didn’t want him to meet any of you,_ but Junmyeon takes it in stride, apparently does not have much experience with Chinese or the Chinese words for familial relationships, because Mrs. Huang just called Junmyeon _daughter-in-law_. 

“No, ma’am, but Chanyeol’s told me all about you,” Junmyeon says charmingly. “You’re even more beautiful than he said.” 

Chanyeol frowns, doesn’t ever remember calling Mrs. Huang beautiful, though she is pretty for an older lady. Mrs. Huang does not question it, merely fans herself with her letters before sticking out her hand for Junmyeon to shake gently. 

“Oh, you’re quite the catch, aren’t you?” Mrs. Huang giggles. “I can see why he kept you away. He didn’t want you and I to fall in love instead.” 

Junmyeon laughs, high-pitched and sweet, and they look like good friends already. Chanyeol _hates_ this development. 

They walk into the home, Mrs. Huang’s arm tangled around Junmyeon’s, and they eat braised pork belly over rice, Junmyeon constant in his praise for her cooking. 

“You better keep this one,” Mrs. Huang whispers, kicking him in the shin under the table. “You hear me, _hǔ zǐ_? Keep him.”  
  


♆

They take their tea on the porch, sitting in two of the Adirondacks, rocking back and forth as the world goes darker by the minute. Junmyeon blows over his teacup carefully before sipping at it, eyebrows shooting up at the taste.

“Like this one better?” 

Junmyeon tilts his head. 

“You like this more than the tea from this morning?” Chanyeol clarifies. 

“Much more,” Junmyeon says. “It’s very… complex!” 

“I’ll tell her you said so,” Chanyeol smiles. 

They sip in silence, just the gentle sounds of their chairs moving, and if he could step back, observe from out of his own body, he thinks it might look too domestic to bear. Too homey. Too… too much like something he’s always wanted. 

Junmyeon makes a sound of satisfaction after he’s finished with his tea, and he sets the cup down between them on the small table just as Chanyeol does the same. 

“When do you have to go back?” 

Junmyeon’s smile fades, and he looks out at the sky, watching the sun sink. 

“Soon,” he frowns. “I don’t want to go.” 

“Ah,” Chanyeol says, and he stands up, offering Junmyeon a hand as well. “Can I be honest? I don’t really want you to go either.” 

Junmyeon looks up at him with moonlight in his gaze, and the smile that spreads across his face is full of possibility. _Don’t trick me_, Chanyeol thinks, _don’t make me think this could be something bigger._

“You know, no one’s ever helped me before,” Junmyeon says. “Not like you.” 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says sheepishly. “I’m sure that’s not true.” 

“It is. I would never lie to you, Chanyeol.” He takes Chanyeol’s hands in his, and a shiver of chill runs through Chanyeol’s body, a feeling he is rapidly becoming accustomed to. “I promise you this.”  
  


♆

When they return to the beach, it is sparkling with stars. It is incredibly romantic, and Chanyeol doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t deny that this is something. This is too perfect. This is something out of a fairy tale.

“Come on,” Junmyeon says, dragging Chanyeol by the hand. “Let’s sit for a while, before I’ve got to go.” 

Chanyeol holds the guitar in his other hand, and they walk to where the beach meets the water. Junmyeon sits, sticks his feet in the water, and he smiles up at Chanyeol. He pats the sand, waits for Chanyeol to sit next to him, and then snuggles close like he doesn’t know the difference between sitting a foot away and sitting skin to skin. 

Junmyeon rests his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder, and they watch the waves, the hushed crushing sounds as they hit the sand. It feels surreal, feels technicolor despite the growing darkness, and if he was more confident, he would put an arm around Junmyeon’s body. 

They sit there for a while, listening to the music of the night, and when Chanyeol slides the guitar onto his lap, Junmyeon sits up straight, eyes glimmering as he looks at Chanyeol like he hung the moon. 

“Play,” Junmyeon says. 

“A-All right,” Chanyeol says, and although it feels a bit like pulling his pants down on the first date, he starts to fingerpick a little melody. “S-Sorry, I’m not like, great or anything.” 

“You’re wonderful.” 

Chanyeol’s fingers still on the guitar, but Junmyeon nods with a smile to make him pick up the song again. He tries not to feel self-conscious as Junmyeon watches him, and eventually, he has to close his eyes just to keep himself from stopping. 

But then, like he can see the very song that’s inked into Chanyeol’s heart, Junmyeon starts to hum along to the melody. Chanyeol’s eyes open, and when he looks at Junmyeon, he has his eyes closed, the veins of his neck working as he begins to sing, his voice echoing across an empty world. 

And Chanyeol can’t place it, but God, Junmyeon’s voice sounds so very familiar. Has it been in his dreams? Has this always been fate for them? He strums, fingers tense, and Junmyeon’s voice soars over the beach, heavenly, like a fucking gift. It is so beautiful, his voice, that it nearly brings Chanyeol to tears, and honest to God, it feels like a movie. Feels like something that should have been kept forever. 

Their song ends slowly, fades out the way the best songs do, and Chanyeol looks at Junmyeon looking at him. 

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Chanyeol laughs, shocked. “You’re amazing.” 

“You’re better,” Junmyeon says shyly. “Thank you for letting me sing.” 

“Thank _you_. God, I… you just sound so familiar. I sorta wish… well, never mind, it’s not important.” 

He stands up sharply, dusting off his shorts as he picks up his guitar, and Junmyeon scrambles up to follow him. 

“It is important,” Junmyeon says. “I’m sure that it’s important, if you’re the one thinking it.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t know how he manages to say those things, words that get right to the heart of him. It’s a talent of his, and Chanyeol almost wishes he didn’t have it because he feels himself slipping. 

“Come on,” Junmyeon needles, and he kicks sand at Chanyeol’s feet as they stand there, the night draped over them. “Tell me.” 

“I just… I just wish you didn’t have to leave today. I know that’s silly, because I’m sure we can keep in touch, but…” 

It shocks Chanyeol when Junmyeon has seemingly run out of words, responding only with movement. He steps forward, closing the gap between them. They are but an inch apart, and Junmyeon stares up at Chanyeol, the clouds so thick around them Chanyeol can barely see through them. The moment is tense, razor-thin, and beautiful. 

Chanyeol drops his guitar.

When they kiss, it is like waves crashing over him, the water warm and inviting. Junmyeon moans prettily, softly against Chanyeol’s mouth, and he returns it, already feeling wrapped up in his riptide. 

Junmyeon’s body presses against his own, the thin line of him more arousing than anything Chanyeol’s ever heard, seen, or felt before. Each moment feels like a deeper dive into pleasure, and Chanyeol wonders as Junmyeon licks into his mouth, swallows the sounds that Chanyeol makes: _Will I ever find the bottom of this well?_

When they part, Junmyeon smiles against Chanyeol’s lips, pulling him into a hug. 

“Do you wanna know something stupid?” Chanyeol asks, buried into Junmyeon’s skin. 

“I’m sure it isn’t stupid,” Junmyeon answers. 

Chanyeol swallows thickly, holds Junmyeon in his arms. 

“It’s my birthday today,” he says. “And… And I don’t know. There’s something about this that just seems… so magical.” 

Junmyeon pulls back out of the embrace, and his green eyes sparkle like emeralds in the light of the moon. He slowly stands back onto his tiptoes, and when he presses his lips to Chanyeol’s once more, it feels like a gift, the sweetest, most wonderful gift Chanyeol’s ever had the pleasure to receive. 

Chanyeol rests his hands on Junmyeon’s hips for a moment, slowly lets them slide to the small of Junmyeon’s back. Their bodies press together in the most delicious way, something natural and expected about it, and Junmyeon gasps when Chanyeol moves his tongue across Junmyeon’s lips. Junmyeon yields, and Chanyeol licks in, delighted by the way Junmyeon throws his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. 

It is eager, and it is hungry. It feels like the prelude to something deeper, and Chanyeol is about to pull back just to catch a breath when Junmyeon beats him to it, resting his forehead against Chanyeol’s. They share in a smile, the kind of smile that lovers share, and then, in an instant, Junmyeon’s smile slides from his face. 

Chanyeol can’t decide what the look is that replaces it. Studies it for a minute with a quirked eyebrow. 

“I… hold on a moment, would you?” Junmyeon says, and without another word, he sprints away, the sand kicked up behind him, leaving a distinctly Junmyeon-shaped hole before where Chanyeol stands. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol calls with a smile. “What are you doing?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t answer, just keeps running across the shoreline. It’s getting darker by the minute, and Chanyeol squints to keep a visual of him. 

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol calls, laughing, but Junmyeon only keeps running, running, running until he reaches the smattering of rocks, and Junmyeon hides behind the one that… the one that Chanyeol sits on every evening. 

The night is cold, colder than normal. Chanyeol pulls the ends of his sweater over his hands, and he folds his arms over his chest. It is dark, the only light coming from the street, the amber hesitant, shy against the blue-black. 

And the waves are crashing. The sea is angry, the curls ripping through, and it almost looks like the beginnings of a hurricane with the way the wind is howling against the rocks. 

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol calls, and an unknowable fear grips him, his stomach twisting with anxiety because for some reason, it suddenly just feels so wrong. “_Junmyeon_.” 

He crosses the beach, and he follows the frantic footsteps in the sand over to the rocks, over to where Junmyeon disappeared, and when he peers over the rocks, all he can taste is fear. 

And all that he can see is the glittering of fish scale. 

Junmyeon’s hair is wet as it hangs into his face, his clothes ripped and torn as they cling to one of the other rocks nearby. His upper body is naked, and his skin looks a pale blue in the night. He stares up at Chanyeol, eyes wet, and Chanyeol is forced to reconcile with the image that is sitting in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry,” Junmyeon says, and there are tears in his eyes, dripping down his face and into the sea. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was just so scared.” 

Chanyeol struggles to find something to say, tries to find any words at all, but his mouth just hangs open, staring at Junmyeon’s tail, at the way the dull, faraway light of the streetlights reflect against it, blue, purple, green, and gold. He cannot believe his eyes. He cannot believe what’s in front of him. He wants… he wants to reach out and touch. He wants to know that what he’s seeing is _real_. 

“What kind of joke is this?” he asks softly, a knit between his brows. 

“It isn’t a joke,” Junmyeon says, and he wipes at his face. “I… I know I can’t explain myself to you, that—” 

“This is real?” Chanyeol asks, his voice hushed as if it might scare Junmyeon away. “You’re a…” 

“I’m a mermaid.” Chanyeol watches Junmyeon’s soft, sweet lips say the words and still, they do not filter in as they should. There is a ringing as he speaks, the high-pitched whistling of the winds along the rocks, and Chanyeol can’t focus. “And I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing? What do you have to be sorry for?” 

Junmyeon stares up at him, his mouth hanging open just a touch. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Junmyeon says. “I hid it from you.” 

Chanyeol stares down at the ridge where skin stops and where the scaled tail begins, an inch or so below his belly button. The ridge juts out a bit, but below it, the tail is all smooth scale, and it moves nervously through the water as if on it’s own accord, analogous to the nervous tapping of a foot, occasionally catching the light with a glimmer. 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says. 

“It isn’t,” Junmyeon says ,and the tears fall down his face, streaking his skin. “It isn’t okay. I’ve wondered for so long how I could manage to work up the courage to speak to you. I’ve… I’ve tried so hard, and I just couldn’t do it, you were so beautiful and your music was so—” 

“You wanted to speak to me?” 

He leans forward, his hand braced on the stone. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon confesses. “For so very long.” 

“You listened to my music?” Chanyeol asks. “Then… was it you all along?” 

“W-What?” 

“Was it you?” Chanyeol asks, eyes wide. “The one who was singing? Was it you?” 

Junmyeon sucks in a breath, the water rising to lap at his waist. 

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, it was me.” 

“You’ve been here all along?” Chanyeol asks. “Every night?” 

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says, and he closes his eyes, looks down at the water, lets tear after tear slip down his face like he can’t bear to look into Chanyeol’s eyes. “I know it’s strange, but I just—” 

“Don’t,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t call it strange.” 

Junmyeon glances up, and Chanyeol reaches down, his hand at Junmyeon’s cheek. Chanyeol lays his body over the top of the rock, his stomach flat, and he takes Junmyeon’s face in both hands, pulls him up from the water. 

“I-I’m—” 

“I thought it was all in my head,” Chanyeol says, totally in awe. “I thought I was hearing things, but it was always you.” 

Junmyeon shuts his eyes in shame, and Chanyeol can’t have that, leans down, legs kicked into the air as he kisses Junmyeon, tastes salt water on his lips. 

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says. “I’m—” 

“Come back to me,” Chanyeol says with a grin, “it’s okay. Change back for me.”

He stares into Chanyeol’s eyes, mouth open, and the sob that escapes him is heart-wrenching. Chanyeol holds him, tries desperately to hold the fractured pieces of him together, but it is so very difficult. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Junmyeon cries, and Chanyeol brushes the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You don’t understand at all.” 

“What don’t I understand?” 

“I only have one night,” he says, and he blinks, blinks again. “I only have one night a year to walk with you. And my night… it was tonight.” 

Chanyeol’s heart sinks to his feet, and he is sure that his face echoes the despondency that fills him. Junmyeon bites his lip to stop another cry from escaping, and quickly, Chanyeol realizes that he’s got to do something. Say something. Say _anything_. 

“Will you be here in the morning?” Chanyeol asks. 

Junmyeon’s eyelashes glitter as he looks up into Chanyeol’s eyes, a look of confusion painted along him. 

“What?” 

“Will you meet me tomorrow morning?” 

“Chanyeol, I—” 

“Meet me,” Chanyeol says. “Promise that you’ll come right back here. At sunrise, okay? Promise.” 

“I… I promise,” Junmyeon says. 

Chanyeol smiles, and he moves his body across the rock, making it easier to kiss Junmyeon again, kiss the breath from him. 

When he looks down, he sees Junmyeon’s teary smile, but then, a movement. He tracks it, follows it, and he sees gills sprouting back up along the thin line of Junmyeon’s throat, and Junmyeon starts to gasp as he holds himself up out of the water. 

“Go,” Chanyeol says. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

Junmyeon nods, near tears, and he hurriedly moves to the deeper waters, to the under, letting the waves take him home, wherever that might be.  
  


♆

Chanyeol can hardly sleep when he gets home that night, can still feel the phantom touch of the ocean’s cold on his face, on his neck. The brush of it against his lips. He shuts his eyes and prays that it isn’t a dream. Because even if Junmyeon isn’t exactly normal, there is no arguing that he is something special, something magical.

The dawn rises, and it splits through his room. He feels like he got no sleep at all when the alarm blares. He can’t help but feel like maybe he’ll go to the shore, and he will find nothing there waiting for him, but he grabs his shower caddy, goes to the main house, and showers like it’s a first date anyway. 

Or, _second date_, he supposes. 

He smiles around his toothbrush as he stares in the mirror, dressing quickly, unable to keep his body from fidgeting nervously. But it’s the happy kind of nervous, the kind reserved for Christmas morning and birthdays. He wears a sweater that he thinks makes him look nice, a dark royal blue, and a pair of jeans that Mrs. Huang bought for him a year ago. She’s much more fashionable than he is, so he trusts her with such a task. 

After he finishes up, ruffling the water from his hair, he goes back downstairs, puts his caddy back, and grabs his guitar. 

It is a short walk, but he nearly runs, doesn’t care about how stupid he looks. He kicks off his shoes at the end of the boardwalk, walks very quickly until he is by the rocks, and then makes his way up on top of his normal seat, legs folded up underneath his body. 

He is early, but he doesn’t mind. He’d rather be early than late. 

The excitement boils in his stomach, and his face feels so hot even in the cold of the morning, and when a breeze rolls in, he hugs his arms to his chest as he waits, watching the water roll in, all the cresting white and blue. He gets lost in the moment, eyes going hazy as he remembers the little details from the night before. The iridescence of the scales on his tail. The way it shimmered so brightly that he could see it through the darkness, through the dark water. God, he was so beautiful. He was so impossibly beautiful. 

And maybe it was just a dream. Maybe it was all in his head. 

He waits, and he waits, and the longer he waits, the more he thinks that he was wrong. That Junmyeon was just that, a beautiful dream. 

But then the water starts to shift, and he can see movement, like a bullet through the water. It gives his heart a little spark of hope, the spark spreading to fire as Junmyeon approaches, the tell-tale purplish glimmer of his tail evident the closer he gets. Chanyeol blinks, blinks fast, tries to clear his mind of the pictures that aren’t in front of him, but there Junmyeon is. Swimming up to him. Peeking his eyes up above the water. 

They crinkle as he smiles, finally popping up out of the water with the most beautiful face Chanyeol’s ever seen. 

“H-Hi,” Chanyeol breathes, still hardly believing what’s right in front of him. “I didn’t think you’d come.” 

Junmyeon swims closer, hoists himself up a bit so that his arms are folded across the rock. Water spreads from his skin, and Chanyeol feels the chill of the ocean. 

“You didn’t think I’d come?” Junmyeon asks, tilting his head as he lays his chin across the pillow of his arms. “You’re so silly. There is no one I would rather see, Chanyeol.” 

Chanyeol feels inexplicable warmth seep through him, so, so fast. 

“Same,” Chanyeol says. “Big same.” 

“_Big same_,” Junmyeon says, testing it out a little. “Then, we are in agreement?” 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

“Oh, that is so wonderful to hear,” Junmyeon smiles. “I was so… I was so nervous, you see. That maybe you had changed your mind.” 

“Changed my mind?” he asks, raising his brows. “How could I change my mind? You’re… I mean, look at you!” He gestures broadly to Junmyeon. “You’re… you’re incredible. You’re _magical_.” 

“_Chanyeol_,” Junmyeon says, trying and failing to chastise him. 

He stares at him, at his incomparable beauty, and he tries and fails to temper his excitement. Who _is_ this person, and how has Chanyeol managed to find him? 

“You never told me much about you,” Chanyeol says. “Is it because you were trying to keep this a secret from me?” 

Junmyeon sinks a little deeper into the water around him, so low that he begins to blow bubbles along the surface of the ocean with his mouth. 

“Come on, then,” Chanyeol says, folding his legs into a pretzel atop the rock. “You got my whole life story. Let me get yours.”  
  


♆

Over the course of the next several days, Junmyeon tells him everything there is to know about the Mer and their way of life. Junmyeon is so beautiful when he talks about things he is passionate about, and Chanyeol can’t tear his eyes away from him, not when he discusses his school or their civilization, the whole little world that lives and breathes beneath.

He sits there for the better part of the week, sharing meals and stories, only heading back home once the sun has set and Junmyeon tells him that he’s got to be going, that his family will be expecting him back soon. 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “But, um, when can I see you again? I mean, I know we’ve been talking a lot lately, and I would understand if you had other things to do, but I—” 

“Well, if you aren’t busy…” 

“I’m not!” Chanyeol says hurriedly. “I mean, does that make me seem too eager?” 

“I was going to suggest tomorrow,” Junmyeon says with a soft little smile. “If you are too eager, then so am I.” 

“Oh.” He feels the blush rise to his face. “Oh, uh, good then.” 

“Very good,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol watches as his tail swishes nervously, a little wave surging up so that Junmyeon rises with it. Soon, he is right in front of Chanyeol, lips red and wet. “See you tomorrow, then?” 

He darts forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Chanyeol’s lips before knifing through the water, leaving Chanyeol in awe, rubbing his fingers against his lips. All he can taste is salt.  
  


♆

They give each other gifts on a regular basis, and Chanyeol tries to show Junmyeon the best of what the world has to offer. There's only so much you can indulge in one day a year, so much left for him to explore, and Chanyeol delights in showing him all of it.

Of course, Junmyeon also delights in showing Chanyeol the treasures of the ocean. And that's sweet, almost _too sweet_ sometimes.

He goes to the shore that day fresh from the corner-store, a little shopping bag full of treats for Junmyeon to try. Chanyeol's got a ranked list of things he wants Junmyeon to taste-test, but right at the tippy-top of the list—

"Have you ever tried them?" Chanyeol asks, a nonsensical question, holding the bag of Flamin' Hots out to Junmyeon.

"No, I haven't!" Junmyeon says excitedly, and he takes the bag, lays back in the water so that the autumn sun shines on his stomach, his back propped up against one of the rocks. "Are they your favorites?"

"Maybe not my favorites now, but they were in high school," Chanyeol says, smiling. "I think I ate nothing but these for, like, practically a year."

"Oh, I understand that very well." Junmyeon nods solemnly. "In my adolescence, all I wanted to eat was monkfish. My mother could have rung my neck, I swear it." 

"R-Right. Monkfish."

"Have you ever had one?" Junmyeon asks, eyes sparkling.

"Not that I'm aware of?"

"Ah!"

Junmyeon tosses the bag of Cheetos back up onto the rock where Chanyeol sits, and then he quickly swims off before Chanyeol can say another word.

Chanyeol shuts his eyes, smiles as he shakes his head, but within another moment, Junmyeon pops up from the water, smiling brightly as he holds a wriggling creature in his hands. It is a monstrously ugly fish, brown and with a gaping mouth, and Chanyeol leans back a little, shirking away from it.

"Go on," Junmyeon says, nudging the especially unsightly fish towards Chanyeol. "Take it, sweet thing."

"U-Uh, not that I'm not _super_ flattered by your admittedly wonderful offering, but..."

"Oh, right," Junmyeon says, and he snaps the neck of the fish easily, shocking a little gasp from Chanyeol's mouth. "What?"

"You _killed it_!" 

"Yes, my sweet," Junmyeon says slowly, a furrow in his brow like he doesn't understand. "Or... do you prefer them living?"

"N-No!" Chanyeol stutters. "Oh my god, I... sorry, I know that's, like, the way of your people or whatever, but...” 

"Oh, I'm sorry." He chucks the fish to the side, behind some rocks, out of sight. "Do you... you don't want to see the fish killed, my sweet?"

"No," Chanyeol says. "Sorry."

"No apologies necessary," Junmyeon smiles. "But you _do_ eat the fish, am I correct? I seem to remember you… saying as much."

"Yes. Yeah, I eat fish. Sorry, I know this is confusing for you."

He rests his icy hand on Chanyeol's ankle with a smile. "Do not apologize to me, my pearl. But... in your experience, the fish is _always_ brought to you... dead?"

"Uh, yes," Chanyeol says. "I don't really..."

"Say no more, my sweet," Junmyeon says. "Next time, I shall bring the fish dead."

"No, uh... well, what do you say we just stick to seashells and seaglass?"

"Ah," Junmyeon smiles, a little twinkle in his eye. "All right, then. Whatever my sweet prefers. Now then, to try your _Flamin' Hot Cheetos_."

Junmyeon takes the bag from the rock, and Chanyeol leans forward, legs all folded up into a pretzel. He tears the bag open, sticking his wet hand into the bag, and chucking a few Cheetos into his mouth.

"Mm," Junmyeon hums as he chews. "These are quite good! I can certainly see the appeal." He licks the red dust from his fingers before sticking his hand back into the bag. "I could see these being _very addictive_." He shoves a few more handfuls into his mouth before turning towards Chanyeol. "Oh, I've been so rude. Here. Enjoy them with me!"

Chanyeol takes one look at the watery bag of Flamin' Hots.

"No, it's okay," Chanyeol smiles. "All you."

Junmyeon grins, mouth red. "Thank you, my pearl."

"Ah, anything for you," Chanyeol says, and worryingly enough, he means just that.  
  


♆

Chanyeol goes to the beach as often as he possibly can in those first few weeks. In fact, Mrs. Huang often hangs out on the front porch, watching as he leaves in the morning.

"Where are you headed?" she asks, jabbing her finger into his shoulder. "You look so happy lately."

Chanyeol bites his lip to stop the smile from sprouting up like a little weed.

"Just hanging out with a friend," Chanyeol tells her. "Do you need anything? I'll probably be back around ten, if that's okay with you."

She shoos him away.

"I don't need you clogging up my kitchen. Get out. Go, go. And if you're meeting that boy, make sure you trap him somehow."

For a moment, Chanyeol is halted by his thoughts: Junmyeon wrapped up in one of those fishing nets, posing on the shore like some sort of pin-up. He furiously shakes the thought away.

"Not meeting a boy," he says as he walks away, waving over his shoulder.

_Definitely not just a boy_, he thinks. _Something much, much better._

He walks with his guitar across his back, his basket at his side. He promised Junmyeon he'd be there soon, so he hustles along, not wanting to make him wait.  
  


♆

Chanyeol doesn’t exactly know the boundaries of their relationship, so while he spends as much time as he possibly can around Junmyeon, he doesn’t want to get attached before the time is right.

Junmyeon, though... it occurs to Chanyeol that Junmyeon has no boundaries, or at least, possesses a much different set than humans do.

Chanyeol tries to figure it out, wants to suss out whether or not Junmyeon just wants friendship or wants something more, but he doesn’t want to just come right out and _say it_. He’s infatuated, not insane. 

Junmyeon touches him a lot, takes Chanyeol’s hand in his whenever he presents him with a gift, looks deeply into Chanyeol’s eyes whenever he speaks. It makes Chanyeol feel like he’s the center of the universe, like he’s special or something, and how could anyone blame him for liking the way that makes him feel? 

Bottom line, though, is that he doesn’t want to sink more of himself into it if this is just another example of mermaid culture shock, and he doesn’t wanna ruin whatever he has going on with Junmyeon. At the very least, it is incredibly cool to have a mermaid as a friend. 

He tries to bring it up casually, but everytime he tries to be casual, it ends up sounding so forced. He’s in the middle of his retelling of a romantic comedy he saw recently, asking if Junmyeon wants to watch some Netflix sometime, and then, his brain makes him blurt it out. 

“What’s, uh, what’s courting like?” Chanyeol asks. “You know, like, for mermaids?” 

“Courting?” Junmyeon smiles. “We pair-bond, I suppose.” 

“Pair-bond? What’s that entail?” 

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says, and he lays his arm across the rock, rests his chin on his forearm. “I’ve never really experienced it.” 

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “But... isn’t there, like, some kind of ritual surrounding it? Dating or... I dunno, something like that?” 

“There’s almost no way of telling whether mermaids are bonded,” Junmyeon says dreamily. “Bonded pairs rarely spend much time together, outside of...” 

And he trails off, pushing back from the rock, the apples of his cheeks going a pretty shade of pink as he goes. 

“Oh.” Chanyeol fumbles for something to say. “That’s interesting. Some... some fish mate that way.” He winces. “I mean, I think— I might have read something to that effect.” 

“Do you know a lot about fish?” Junmyeon asks, and he hides under the water after he says it, submerging himself so that just his green eyes peek out. 

“Uh, a little, I guess. Not, um, not too much.” 

He is shy when he re-emerges, lips dripping salt water.

“Though I cannot say for certain, I think I would prefer the human style of courting,” Junmyeon says, and he looks down at the water with a small smile. “Camaraderie. Gift-giving. Sweet words. The romance. All of it appeals to me.” 

Chanyeol folds himself up small, hugging his knees to his chest, thinking about how it could possibly work between a man and a mermaid.  
  


♆

He doesn’t always have the free time to spend the morning with Junmyeon, not with his job _occasionally_ demanding his attention. He’s more like a son to the Huangs than an employee of theirs, but he doesn’t want to mooch off them, so whenever they need stuff done, he makes sure he gets it done.

Before, nothing really stood in his way. Now, though... now he has a reason to get distracted. 

Chanyeol heads to the beach early in the morning, right on schedule, and Chanyeol can see a dark head popping out of the water near the rocks as he approaches. He smiles, heads over with butterflies in his stomach. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol whispers, and he climbs up onto his rock, peeking down at Junmyeon, blowing bubbles in the water, his back turned to Chanyeol. “Morning.” 

Junmyeon turns, a great white grin on his face. 

“Good morning,” Junmyeon greets, and he brushes his wet hair back and out of his face. “Are you well? Did you sleep well?” 

"I am, and I did. I just... I wanted to stop by quickly. I don't have much time this morning," Chanyeol says, smiling down at Junmyeon. "Got an errand to run for Mrs. Huang."

"Don't mind me," Junmyeon says, waving a hand at Chanyeol. "I'll survive."

"Y-Yeah, but... but I wanted to see you still." He says it, vaguely horrified at how much it feels like a confession. "Sorry, I, uh..."

"No, no," Junmyeon says, and he pulls on Chanyeol's sleeve before he realizes what he's done, the fabric going soaking wet quickly. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry, I've—"

"No!" Chanyeol says, and he grabs Junmyeon's hand, laces his fingers between Junmyeon's. "Just, uh, you don't have to worry! I'm okay. It's just water. I mean, it'll dry."

"O-Oh," Junmyeon says. "Oh, of course."

His hand is damp in Chanyeol's, something Chanyeol will probably never get used to. He doesn't care about that, though. In fact, he would prefer not to get used to it. Sometimes, the moment you get used to something is the moment you stop treating it like it's made of magic.

He looks down to where they touch, slick skin against dry, and he wonders if maybe he's overstepped his bounds. If maybe he's seen this as something more than it really is. Maybe it's mermaid culture to kiss people? Maybe that's how they, like, say hello and goodbye? He's seen French movies, and he's seen the cheek thing once or twice. And after all, they only talked about _courting_, they didn’t talk about the intricacies of friendship. 

"I'm not... I'm not going too fast or anything, am I?" Chanyeol asks.

The last thing he would want to do, obviously, is to move at a pace that Junmyeon wasn't comfortable with.

"Oh, no, no, of course not!" Junmyeon says, and there is a funny little blush that rises, ruddies up his face a bit. Makes him look a bit more man than mermaid.

"So, is this... am I totally cool doing stuff like this regularly?" Chanyeol asks. "Like, holding hands and maybe, like, I don't know—"

"Kissing?"

Junmyeon stares up at Chanyeol with hopeful eyes and those pretty red cheeks and a curl of dark, wet hair hanging across his brow, and—God, Junmyeon is beautiful. And Chanyeol isn’t like him—he’s only human.

He lets go of Junmyeon's hand swiftly, leaps down from the rock sneakers first. Junmyeon makes a shocked noise when Chanyeol splashes into the water. Chanyeol takes that surprise, fuckin' runs with it.

His hands come up to frame Junmyeon's jaw, and he kisses him thoroughly, much the same he did a month prior. It feels so delicious, so warm and good even though the winter waters lap at them both, surround them like a bubble.

"Chanyeol!" Junmyeon says, smiling up at him. "What are you doing? Didn't you just say that you've—"

"Mrs. Huang's always telling me I need to take more time for myself," Chanyeol says. "So I'm taking some time now. For myself."

He is quick to lean back down, take Junmyeon's lips in another kiss. He is eager for the sounds, for the slide of Junmyeon's body against his own, the playful little swish of Junmyeon's tail against Chanyeol's ankles.

They stand there in the water, kissing each other, until Chanyeol’s teeth start to chatter. 

“Oh, goodness!” Junmyeon says, and when he speaks, Chanyeol’s eyes are drawn to the blood red of his lips, the way it slips out to the skin around his mouth. He looks well-kissed, and it heats Chanyeol up extremely well. “You’re so cold, please, you’ll get sick!” 

“Just another minute?” Chanyeol asks. 

Junmyeon bites his lip, the deep red going pale pink, before he pulls Chanyeol into another blistering kiss, sliding down deeper into those cool waters.  
  


♆

Chanyeol doesn’t know if he would call it dating, though he does explain the ins and outs of human relationships to Junmyeon over the course of the next several weeks. Once Junmyeon tells him that he finds the notion of dinner and a movie charming, Chanyeol makes it happen, brings nigiri and Netflix to him as often as he can possibly manage. He buys a waterproof phone case, just in case, and Chanyeol props his phone up as they eat, as they watch classic romantic comedies that leave Junmyeon with his mouth hanging open on an _Aw._

They’ve just wrapped up _You’ve Got Mail_ when Junmyeon turns to Chanyeol with the happiest look on his face. 

“This Meg Ryan,” Junmyeon says. “Tell me about her.” 

“Uh... I don’t really know _too_ much about her,” Chanyeol says. 

“Could you find out?” Junmyeon looks up at Chanyeol with hopeful eyes. “I don’t know why, but I feel a kinship with her!” 

“She was definitely America’s Sweetheart at one point. That much I know.” 

“She is no longer the sweetheart of your country?” Junmyeon frowns. “Who could be more of a sweetheart than Megan Ryan?” 

“I don’t think that’s her full name,” Chanyeol says, and he grabs his phone, Googles it. “Yeah. ‘Born Margaret Mary Emily Hyra,’ or so Wikipedia says.” 

“Meg Ryan was formerly named Margaret Mary Emily Hyra,” Junmyeon says, repeating it like he’s committing it to memory. “All right, Chanyeol, please inform me of the first time Meg Ryan, formerly known as Margaret Mary Emily Hyra, acted.” 

“How should I know that?” 

Junmyeon stares up at Chanyeol with puppy dog eyes, asks “Couldn’t you ask your friend, Siri?” 

“I’ve told you, she’s not my friend. She’s not real.” 

“Why, of course she is real!” Junmyeon says. “Hold the button, please.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes on a sigh before dutifully pressing the button. “Hello, Siri. Could you please inform me of when Meg Ryan started acting?” 

“Okay,” Siri says, her voice strangely unrobotic. “I found this on the web for ‘Could you please inform me of when Meg Ryan started acting,’ check it out.” 

Junmyeon’s eyes light up. 

“Well, go on!” he says, nudging Chanyeol with his hand. “You heard the lady! Check it out!” 

And so they spend the rest of the chilly evening researching Meg Ryan, making a list of more movies to watch together.  
  


♆

The first snow pours down over Aria, over the whistling rocks of the Singing Coast, and Chanyeol finally begins to bundle up when he goes to visit Junmyeon in the mornings and evenings.

“You look so sweet,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol leans down so that Junmyeon can play with the pom-pom on top of his hat. “Is this common for the humans? Decorative hats?” 

“In the winter,” Chanyeol says. “And I guess during the Kentucky Derby?” 

Junmyeon’s face lights up the way it always does when Chanyeol thoughtlessly references some part of human culture, or more specifically, American human culture. 

“Explain the Kentucky Derby, won’t you?” 

Chanyeol stares down at him, white snowflakes landing on his wet hair and melting as soon as they touch. He stares up at Chanyeol with wide and curious eyes, and he is so handsome that Chanyeol sometimes feels like screaming. 

“It’s, uh, so... actually, I guess I should start by explaining sports,” Chanyeol says. “Are you familiar with the concept of sports?” 

“_Am I familiar with the concept of sports_,” Junmyeon scoffs. “I am a three-time champion of Algae Skimming! I even bested my cousin, who is well-known to be the best skimmer this side of the Atlantic.” 

“Right.” He furrows his brow. “So, people race horses.” 

“As we race seahorses!” Junmyeon says happily. 

That immediately flummoxes Chanyeol, throws him for a fucking loop. How are you supposed to just _let something like that go?_

“Wait, what the fuck? Do seahorses get big enough to race?” Chanyeol asks. 

“_Do seahorses get big enough to race_,” Junmyeon scoffs. 

“Stop doing that.” 

“Then I suppose you ought to stop questioning my intelligence and my culture!” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, mittened hands braced on the snowy surface of the rock as he leans down to press a kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. When he pulls back, Junmyeon touches his lips with his fingers, a small smile painted across them. 

“What was that for?” he asks, shy like a schoolgirl. 

“Just to shut you up,” Chanyeol says happily. It is, of course, the wrong thing to say, and Junmyeon swims back with a huff, tail raised threateningly above the water. “Oh no. Junmyeon, stop. Don’t, it’s... it’s so cold out!” Chanyeol only just barely escapes before a huge wave drenches where he once sat, and a cold wind of mist bites across his face. “Junmyeon!” 

Junmyeon rests his arms across the rock with a delighted smile. “Serves you right.” He slaps his hand along the top of the rock. “Now come back.” 

“What if I don’t trust you anymore?” Chanyeol asks, and he buries his face in the cocoon of his oversized winter coat. “What if you’ve driven me away?” 

Junmyeon’s face falls sharply, and Chanyeol quickly scrambles back across the beach. 

“Do you truly not trust me anymore?” Junmyeon asks. “I was only playing, I thought I was bein—” 

He is swiftly interrupted by Chanyeol leaping forward onto the slick rock, kissing him so hard that his mouth sort of hurts afterwards, their teeth bumping against one another’s painfully. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol huffs happily. 

Junmyeon brings his hand to his mouth, smiling despite the pain. “Ow.” He lowers the hand slowly, brings it down to hold Chanyeol’s hand. “So all is well between us?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “All is well.”  
  


♆

Junmyeon makes the request that Chanyeol start taking pictures of all of the things that he does throughout the day so that, when the time comes for their nightly date, he can show _and_ tell.

“The Huangs have a nice couple from Ann Arbor staying,” Chanyeol says, and he swipes through his pictures to show the big breakfast that Mrs. Huang made. “They’re cool. They brought a bottle of wine, and Mrs. Huang gave it to me.” He shows Junmyeon the fancy label. “I thought maybe I could bring it tomorrow?” 

“Oh, I’ve never had wine before!” Junmyeon enthuses. “What’s it like, Chanyeol? Tell me everything. Spare no detail.” 

Chanyeol has gotten used to that sort of thing, sparing no detail when he’s describing things. 

“It’s like... well, you know grapes.” 

“Yes, Chanyeol, I know grapes,” Junmyeon says slowly. 

“It tastes like grapes, but like, bad ones,” Chanyeol says. “Sort of. But like, a good sort of bad.” 

“You do not make this sound very appealing, my pearl.” 

“It gets you drunk,” Chanyeol says. “That’s the main draw of it, at least in my experience with the substance.” 

“_Drunk_,” Junmyeon says slowly, this time from a lack of understanding. 

“Oh, it’s, uh... well, I don’t know if your kind can get drunk? I guess we can test it?” 

“But what _is_ it? What is _drunk_?” 

“You drink some, and you get drunk. Silly, and, uh, a little stupid,” Chanyeol says. “You drink too much, and you wake up in a frat house with no shirt.” 

“Is this another example of you speaking from experience, Chanyeol?” 

“Stop judging me, you don’t even know what a frat house is,” Chanyeol says. 

“I have watched _Animal House_,” Junmyeon says. “Question my knowledge of your culture again, and you shall know the true cold of the briny deep.” 

“Ugh,” he groans. “Don’t talk like that.” 

Junmyeon smirks, splashing water onto Chanyeol’s rock, much to Chanyeol’s chagrin.  
  


♆

Chanyeol packs a picnic basket with several different kinds of cheeses and his Hydro Flask full of wine. He’s never really been the type of person to do these sorts of things before, _romantic_ things, but Junmyeon makes him want to. Junmyeon has opened his eyes to all manner of things.

He dresses up nicely, a nice sweater and his good pair of jeans, and he tames his hair a bit, pushing it back and out of his face the way Junmyeon pushes back his own hair fresh from the water. 

He excitedly walks to the shore, stepping out of his shoes before he pads over to the whistling rocks. Chanyeol sees the water moving when he approaches, a telltale sign that Junmyeon’s beaten him there. He hurries over, jumping up onto his rock and peering over into the water. He is gorgeous, glowing, and Chanyeol goes stupid when he sees him, thinking _I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to know him._

“Hi,” Chanyeol says. 

Junmyeon smiles up at him, and the water surges around him, lifts him up on a wave so that they can kiss. 

“Hello, my sweet,” Junmyeon says. “How was your day?” 

“Long.” He kisses Junmyeon’s lips again, and the kiss goes deeper, more passionate than ever before. A kiss that reminds him of their first kiss. He pulls back, dazed. “I just kept thinking about you.” 

“You’re such a charmer,” Junmyeon says, and the words slip over Chanyeol’s lips. “What have you brought for us this evening?” 

The sun is setting earlier and earlier, the winter growing to its coldest, but the sky is dense with candy-colored clouds. Junmyeon is a vision, just as beautiful as always, though it seems like tonight, he’s done something different. He wears a necklace that lays delicately around him, and it is crafted from seaglass and shined stones. Chanyeol’s never seen such a thing before, but it is gorgeous, truly masterful, and it sparkles in the dying light. 

“Something for you to try,” Chanyeol says, and he takes the bottle from the basket, passing it over after uncapping it. “Tell me if you like it.” 

Junmyeon takes a tentative sip from the metal bottle, and he immediately swishes it around his mouth before spitting it into the water beside him. 

“Hey!” 

“It is foul,” Junmyeon says, like a judge passing down his sentence. “Perhaps you let it go rancid?” 

“It’s not foul, that’s just, like, how wine does it,” Chanyeol explains. 

“The wine is poison,” Junmyeon says. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“You let me drink _poison_?” Junmyeon shrieks. “What kind of boyfriend are you, hm?” 

There is a still moment as Junmyeon floats there, hands on his slim hips looking very full of himself. Then, the word filters in, and Chanyeol has nothing to do but question it. 

“B-Boyfriend?” Chanyeol asks. 

Junmyeon’s eyes go wide before he immediately shoots down into the water, his body curled up tight before he whips around the rocks, out of sight. 

“Hey! Get back here! You just called me your boyfriend!” 

Junmyeon sticks his head out from behind the rock. 

“No, I didn’t!” he says. “And you’ve no proof that I did!” 

“I heard you say it,” Chanyeol says. “With my own two ears!” 

Junmyeon withdraws, hides once more behind the rock, and Chanyeol gets up, hops from rock to rock before he is standing over Junmyeon with his hands on his hips. 

“Leave me alone,” Junmyeon says, and he hides his face behind his hands. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.” 

“Why?” Chanyeol says. And he gets to his knees, takes Junmyeon’s hands into his own. “Why would you be embarrassed of that?” 

“Because.” He mumbles it, lips pouting. “I only _thought_ of you as my boyfriend. In my head, that is how I name you, but now I’ve _spoiled it_, and everything is ruined.”

“You could have asked,” Chanyeol says, “if you wanted that to be what we call each other. We could be whatever you want to be.” 

“Truly?” Junmyeon asks. “Whatever I want?” 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol feels inclined to give Junmyeon the entire universe if he asked for it. “Whatever you want.” 

“And I could be Meg Ryan? Formerly known as Margaret Hyra?” Junmyeon asks, eyes bright, and so seriously, so genuinely, he shuts his eyes, breathes in, opens his eyes once more. “I wanted it to be you.” 

Chanyeol smiles, huffing a laugh as he brings them together once more, a kiss that makes it feel like daytime, like summer, the sun shining down over both of them. Snows fall, and Chanyeol shivers, the desire thick inside him.

When they part, he brushes his thumb against Junmyeon’s bottom lip, full and pink. 

“Did you know that today is the start of the new year?” Chanyeol asks. “And we spent the first day with each other.” 

“Is that good luck?” Junmyeon asks. “It feels like it should mean good luck.” 

“Yeah, it has to.”  
  


♆

He is on his way to the beach, arm around a new three ring binder to protect his limited edition copy of _The Transformers, Vol. 1_, when he feels something soft pelt him in the head.

Chanyeol turns around, and he immediately sees the culprit: an angry Sandhya, her long black hair parted on either side of her neck, streaming down a big, puffy, orange winter coat, a pom-pom hat on her head. He looks to the ground. It is a powdered sugar doughnut. 

“Um, hello,” Chanyeol says, and he brushes away the white that he is sure is there on the back of his head. “Can I help you?” 

“You’ve fallen off the face of the fucking Earth,” Sandhya says. “You’ve missed our last three guitar practices, with, like, no word!” 

He frowns. “Sorry. I’ve, uh, sort of had my hands busy with something.” He doesn’t want to get too much more specific than that, though he realizes he has been sort of single-minded in the past two months or so. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah, right.” She folds her arms. “I see you going to the beach every morning and night now.” Sandhya looks him up and down, steeling herself with a little smug look on her face. “Mrs. Huang says you’ve got a boyfriend.” Chanyeol’s stomach goes all twisty at that, and he starts to laugh. “It’s not funny! You’re, like, every friend I had growing up! You get a boyfriend, and you forget I exist!” 

“Please, it’s not that bad,” Chanyeol says. 

“You missed Christmas!” 

“I’m not Christian,” Chanyeol says, gesturing to her. “_You’re_ not Christian.” 

“But we always get each other presents anyway,” Sandhya says. “And... and you missed it this year. _And_ we didn’t do New Year’s together! We always watch _The Twilight Zone_ marathon and eat pizza rolls until we wanna throw up, and you let me have beer! And you... you missed it!”

That sticks in his stomach painfully, and he looks at her, all the sarcasm chipped away to reveal sincerity and hurt. 

“Sorry, I—” 

Sandhya rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about your excuses.” She tosses some of her hair over her puffy, orange shoulder before folding her arms across her puffy, orange chest. “I just wanna meet him.” 

“Meet... meet who?” 

“Meet your boyfriend,” Sandhya says. “Obviously.” 

“Oh, he—look, he’s really shy.” 

“You were shy when I met you,” Sandhya argues. “And now we’re best friends.” Her eyes go watery and wide, dark pools of endlessness. “Aren’t we?” 

Chanyeol knows that he is being manipulated, but he can’t seem to stop his stomach from boiling nervously as she stands there, making herself cry. 

“Fine!” he shouts. “Fine, fine, I’ll... I’ll let you meet him.” 

“Yay!” she cheers, and she hurries over to him, wrapping her puffy, orange arms around him. “I promise I’ll be cool. I won’t do anything weird, I swear.” 

“I am much less worried about you,” Chanyeol mutters, wondering if this is a good idea, settling on the answer that _No, no, it is not._  
  


♆

Sandhya follows close behind him on the walk to the beach, asking a load of questions that Chanyeol would rather not answer or pretend to answer.

“How old is he? Where did he go to school? Did he drop out like you? What does he do now? Does he have a lot of money?” she asks, all in one breath before sucking in another, and starting back up again. “What’s your favorite thing about him? Does he really like the beach or something? Is that why you guys always hang out here? What’s his name? Are you guys in love? Have yo—”

“Enough,” Chanyeol groans. “Please, this is a very stressful situation for me.” 

“What’s stressful about it? Is he ugly?” 

“No, just... God, shut up,” Chanyeol says. 

“Oh no, he’s ugly,” Sandhya moans. “That’s so tragic.” 

Chanyeol smiles, shoves her backwards by the shoulder as she sputters and whines. 

They take off their shoes, digging their toes into the cold sand, and Sandhya starts to scan the empty shores. 

“There’s no one here,” she comments. “Did he ditch you?” 

“No, we, uh, we meet over there,” Chanyeol says, and he points to the whistling rocks. “Every day.” 

“That’s... that’s sort of romantic,” Sandhya frowns. “I don’t like it.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, walks over without her before she catches up, the sand kicked over the ankles of his pants. As they approach, he tries his best to warn her. 

“He’s a little different,” Chanyeol says. “So I really need you to be actually cool, okay? He’s sort of, I dunno, easily spooked, I guess? So be chill.” 

“Oh my god. Please, i-is he an animal? I swear, Chanyeol, there’s a difference between being a furry for ironic purposes and _actually_ doing something illega—” 

“Shut _up_,” Chanyeol says, and once they get close, he stops her. “Okay, right there. I’ll go tell him you’re here.” 

“Where is he?” Sandhya asks, raising up onto her tiptoes, trying to peer over the tops of the rocks. “I don’t see anyone over there. Are you sure he came?” 

“He’s here, I promise.” He pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll call you over when he’s ready.” 

She holds her arms out in a conciliatory gesture, like _Where else do you want me to go?_, and he smiles, walks over to the rocks. 

“Junmyeon,” he whispers. “Come up slowly. And quietly.” 

Junmyeon listens to his instructions, rises from the ocean slowly, steadily. He is smiling brightly when he reaches up, threading his fingers through Chanyeol’s. 

“Good morning,” Junmyeon whispers back. “Why are we being quiet?” 

“I have to ask you a question. And a... a favor, I guess,” Chanyeol says. “Is it okay if you meet another human?” 

“Why, I suppose there are no rules against it,” Junmyeon says. “Why?” 

“Can you meet my friend?”

“A _friend_?” Junmyeon asks, his eyes alight. “I would love to meet a friend of yours. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” 

Chanyeol huffs, overwhelmed by just how fucking cute he is, and he leans over the edge of the rock, kissing him quickly. 

“I’m getting _bored_ over here!” Sandhya calls. 

“Oh!” Junmyeon whispers. “Is that her? Your friend?” 

“Y-Yeah, just... be forewarned; she might be totally weirded out,” Chanyeol says.

“Weirded out?” Junmyeon asks, and Chanyeol can both feel and hear Sandhya approaching. “Whatever is that supposed to mean, my love?” 

Sandhya then shoulders her way onto the rock, pushing Chanyeol out of the way as she cockily aims a look at him. 

“What are you guys doing, hiding over—,” Sandhya says, and once she catches a glimpse of Junmyeon, of his tail that shimmers gold, green, blue, and purple, it seems as though all her clever words are stolen from her, “here.” 

She gawks at Junmyeon, who only swishes his tail back and forth, looking up at her sunnily. 

“Hello there,” Junmyeon says finally, after most of the initial shock has worn off. “My name is Junmyeon. I am of the Mer, the fourteenth son of my school, and it is my greatest honor to meet you. Chanyeol has told me much of you, your brilliance, and your beauty.” 

Again, Chanyeol remembers saying no such thing, but Sandhya looks down to where Junmyeon grabs for her hand, a shocked giggle falling out of her mouth when Junmyeon lifts it to kiss gently.

“He never would have said that,” Sandhya says shyly. “You’re just being nice.” 

“It is not niceties, my sweet, only truth,” Junmyeon says, and as he lets go of her hand, he bows his head to her. “I am so pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” 

Sandhya is dumbstruck by him, and while Chanyeol understands this on a viscerally personal level, he isn’t a fan of Junmyeon’s effect on the women in his life. 

“Okay, enough of that,” Chanyeol says, and he shoulders her away a bit. “Junmyeon, Sandhya. Sandhya, Junmyeon.” He turns to her. “Happy?” 

“No,” she says with a great big grin. “Not even close.” She flattens herself on the surface of the rock, a big puffy orange starfish, and she looks into Junmyeon’s eyes. “You. You gotta tell me _everything_.”  
  


♆

They spend the most of that January day talking, the sun skating across the sky as Junmyeon explains the finer parts of Mer culture to her, albeit in an abbreviated form. Chanyeol, of course, has heard it all before, and he sometimes catches Sandhya’s eyes on him as though she can’t quite believe it, like he’s playing a big trick on her.

“So, you’re telling me there’s no school down there?” Sandhya says. 

“There are plenty of schools. Haven’t you been paying attention?” Junmyeon smiles. He knocks his hand against her head playfully, and she smiles at him. 

“I mean, like, _education_,” she clarifies. “No _college_. No _expectations_, like, to be a fucking doctor.” 

“No, nothing like that,” Junmyeon says. “Though we are expected to pick a profession by the time we reach maturity.” He smiles up at her. “We work through apprenticeships.” 

“That’s kinda cool.” She wiggles her hand. “Very old-fashioned.” She folds her legs up. “What do you do?” 

“I am a singer,” Junmyeon says, and he looks down, his tail gliding easily through the water. “Our songs are our history, so in a way, the singers are also the Mer’s memory.” 

“Oh, that’s _awesome_!” Sandhya enthuses before punching Chanyeol in the shoulder. “He plays guitar. Did he tell you?” 

“We have made much music together,” Junmyeon says, and he shyly looks towards Chanyeol. “_Beautiful_ music.” 

Chanyeol feels his face heat at the words, at the suggestion that Junmyeon probably doesn’t even intend, and Sandhya looks between them, disgusted. 

“Ugh, gross,” Sandhya grimaces. “This is like watching my parents kiss right in front of me.” 

“Feel free to leave anytime,” Chanyeol offers. 

Sandhya laughs. “Yeah, right.” She sharply pulls Chanyeol by his collar, dragging him off the rock. “We’re gonna go get lunch for the three of us, and then we’re gonna get our guitars, and we’re gonna come right back, and we’re gonna have a fucking _jam sesh_.” 

“Oh, a _jam sesh_,” Junmyeon says, clapping his hands together happily. “Chanyeol has never introduced me to such a concept. Shall I prepare something for the occasion?” 

“Just prepare those pipes, girl!” Sandhya says, and she drags Chanyeol away by the scruff of his neck.  
  


♆

Chanyeol is surprised at how well Sandhya takes the deluge of information, but he supposes that perhaps he ought not be. She is very understanding of people with different backgrounds, people who have traveled off the beaten path, and what’s farther from the beaten path than a mythological creature?

The walk to the doughnut shop is quiet, at first, and Chanyeol relishes it. He needs a little bit of time to digest everything that’s happened this morning. Junmyeon has taken his first step into Chanyeol’s _real_ life, and while he supposes that they are in a relationship, that they’re supposed to start sharing these basic things with each other, it’s still strange. Junmyeon has existed in a separate realm since the second day they knew each other, and now—now he’s bridging the gap between them. 

“So, you really went and fell in love with a mermaid, huh?” Sandhya says, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Like, my eyes haven’t deceived me, right?”

He huffs, his shoulders shrugging as he breathes in and out deeply. 

“No, he’s real,” Chanyeol says. “I don’t know how he’s real, but he’s real.” 

“Huang said she met him.” Sandhya shoulders into him. “What’s up with that? Can he, like, change forms and shit?” Sandhya grins, wiggling her eyebrows. “Bet that’s fun for you.” 

“Oh, yeah, it’s... it’s not really like that,” Chanyeol explains. “There’s a curse, it’s stupid.” 

“_Curse?_ _Stupid?_” 

“Yeah, like I said. Stupid.” 

“What is _stupid_ about a curse? This is _amazing_!” she says, waving her hands wildly as they walk down an empty sidewalk. “All those comics, all those stupid fantasy books you read, it’s all been _preparing_ you for this very moment!” 

Chanyeol scoffs. “You don’t get it.” He scuffs his sneaker along the sidewalk. “It’s weird.” 

“Yeah, but everything about you is weird,” Sandhya says. “What’s a little more weird added on top of the pile?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, “I guess.” 

“Besides,” Sandhya continues, “he’s, like, completely gorgeous.” 

Finally, Chanyeol feels confident of something. 

“_Right?_”  
  


♆

Sandhya worms her way back into his day to day after that, and often, she’ll visit Junmyeon during her breaks teaching him all sorts of terrible, awful things.

That was one thing Chanyeol didn’t even realize he needed to look out for. 

Junmyeon shows Chanyeol his fingernails, and Chanyeol is absolutely fucking mortified. 

“Aren’t they beautiful, though?” Junmyeon says, and he tilts his hand from side to side the way newly engaged women do, letting the diamond sparkle in the sun. He, however, is not newly engaged, only sporting a fresh manicure. “I had no idea your people had so many ways to groom themselves!” 

“Yeah, uh, there’s lots of that stuff, I guess,” Chanyeol says, looking at Junmyeon stare in wonder at his holographic blue nails. “I don’t really know much about that kind of thing, though.” 

Junmyeon drops his hand back into the water with a furrow in his brow. 

“Why not?” He swims closer, nearly up against the rock. “Hasn’t she taught you?” Junmyeon studies Chanyeol’s face. “You need your eyebrows done.” 

“Oh my god, you’re not allowed to talk to her anymore,” Chanyeol says. 

“You’re not my dad!” 

“Stop _saying_ that,” Chanyeol says. “Stop letting her tell you things. That’s an _order_.”

“She has shown me _much_,” Junmyeon says happily. “Are you aware of memes, Chanyeol?” 

“Obliquely?” 

“I’m take a nap here,” Junmyeon screeches, and he curls himself up into a ball, floating on top of the water, a little smile on his face. “Goodnight.” 

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol says, “I have to talk to her.” 

“No, no!” Junmyeon says, and he grabs Chanyeol’s hand. “I love her. She is so very interesting. And funny!” 

Chanyeol can’t understand the jealousy that creeps up inside him. After all, it’s not Sandhya that’s dating Junmyeon. It’s _him_. He’s the lucky one. 

Still, it makes him wonder if maybe Junmyeon only latched onto him because he was the first person who offered Junmyeon help, if maybe he’s been misconstruing all this, manipulating Junmyeon into this. 

“Yeah, she’s... she’s really cool,” Chanyeol says. “I like her a lot.” 

Chanyeol stares down at the grey of the rock where his hand sprawls out, and a cold, wet hand covers his own. He looks for a minute, Junmyeon’s nails marvelous, no matter how you looked at them.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol looks up into his eyes, feeling incredibly stupid. “You make a million decisions that mean nothing, and then one day, you bring a man to a bagel shop, and it changes your life.” 

Chanyeol snorts, and he leans down, kisses Junmyeon softly. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says. 

“Whatever are you sorry for?” He kisses Chanyeol again, his hand slick on Chanyeol’s cheek. “Sweet thing. You are special to me.” He looks so deeply into Chanyeol’s eyes, Chanyeol thinks he might see the ends of him. “If you ever need to be reminded, just tell me so.”  
  


♆

Chanyeol doesn’t need to explain the notion of Valentine’s Day, certainly not after they watched _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind_. What he _does_ need is to find a gift worthy of Junmyeon. Giving gifts is par for the course for them, so instead of something pedestrian and common like snack foods or items of movie memorabilia that he lays a coat of polyurethane on, Chanyeol figures he needs to do something nice. _Really_ nice.

“Tell me again why you won’t be coming by tonight,” Junmyeon says, pissy in a way that Chanyeol’s never seen before. 

It’s unbelievable. Unbelievably cute. 

“I have to go shopping, and I’m gonna be busy most of the day working on the Huang’s water heater,” Chanyeol says, and he reaches out, runs his hand through Junmyeon’s icy hair. “I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you somehow?” 

Junmyeon folds his arms as he swirls through the water, smug and bitchy. He hates how beautiful Junmyeon is, how charmed he is by every little bit of Junmyeon. 

“Nachos,” Junmyeon says, looking down the bridge of his nose. “I want nachos tomorrow morning.” 

Chanyeol watches as he dips and curves as he swims around in the small whirlpool by the whistlers, delighted by the way he moves. He... He imagines them together again, something he’s been doing a lot of lately, his hands on Junmyeon’s skin and scales, feeling his body against Junmyeon’s. 

Suddenly, he realizes that Junmyeon is no longer in sight, and he looks around, left to right, before Junmyeon pops out of the water, beaching himself on a rock next to Chanyeol’s. 

“W-Wh—”

“Are you...,” Junmyeon heaves, neck working furiously, “paying attention to me?” 

“Yes, yes, _god_, don’t be so dramatic,” Chanyeol says, and he jumps up, leaps over to the other rock. He kneels before Junmyeon’s body, eyes gliding over him easily. “You’re so—” 

“_Beautiful?_” Junmyeon gasps, and the gills along his ribs ripple. 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, kissing Junmyeon quickly before putting him back into the water, continuing the conversation with a bit more enthusiasm and attention.  
  


♆

Chanyeol does most of his thinking during the day as he’s installing the new water heater in the bowels of the house. It isn’t hard, especially with all his experience, so he ends up making a mental list of possible gifts as he works.

He wants to get Junmyeon something he’ll be able to use, something he’ll be able to keep for a while, so food is out of the question despite the fact that Junmyeon is very easily impressed with various human foods. Chanyeol needs to think bigger. Needs to think _better_. 

What does Junmyeon like? 

Many things, chief among them being fashion magazines, encyclopedic knowledge of internet culture, the most interesting and diverse genres of music, and showing Chanyeol his world below. 

It hits him like a ton of bricks, and after he’s got the pilot lit, he dusts himself off, grabs his wallet from his place, and heads to the nearest electronics shop. 

Of course, Mrs. Huang watches him from the porch, and he waves back to her. 

“Not gonna be home for dinner tomorrow, are you?” she calls. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Chanyeol answers. “Tell Mr. Huang I said Happy Valentine’s Day when you see him.” 

“What about me, you ungrateful little _bèn dàn_!” 

Chanyeol laughs as he walks away, shoving his wallet into his pocket.  
  


♆

The next evening, Chanyeol heads with his gift bag and his picnic basket down to the beach. The sun has already set, the streetlights bathing the beach in a warm orange light, and Chanyeol swings the basket to and fro as he crosses, setting it down once he’s climbed up onto the rock, spreading out the blanket before taking out containers of food.

Chanyeol scans the water around him for movement, even the slightest shift of the water enough to draw his eye, but it seems as though he beat Junmyeon that evening. It’s a good thing, too. He gets the chance to set everything up. 

He lays everything out neatly, precisely, setting places for them both despite the fact that Junmyeon usually just takes his portion in hand, not a fan of using utensils. 

Just after Chanyeol has finished with his preparations, Junmyeon peeks his head out from around one of the rocks across the whirlpool, and Chanyeol feels himself fall right in love. 

He’s done up, groomed himself the way Sandhya has taught him. Impossibly, he looks even more beautiful than usual, and he wears his sea glass necklace and a diadem of aquamarine and iridescent shells. 

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol breathes. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Junmyeon says, and he swims over, feigning an ease he’s learned from movies and television. “How are you?” 

“A lot better now,” Chanyeol tells him. “You look beautiful.” 

“And you.” Junmyeon looks him up and down like he’s ready to take a bite, and Chanyeol feels his whole face heat. “What have you brought for us?” 

“Mrs. Huang made dinner for us,” Chanyeol explains, and he slowly unveils each dish with a flourish of his wrist. “Mango and shrimp spring rolls. Bok choy salad. A dish of the Thai coconut soup you told her you wanted to try, and... ta-da! Roast duck." 

“Oh, it looks wonderful,” Junmyeon says cheerfully, clutching his hands to his chest, smiling with a blush on his cheeks. “You must thank her for me.” 

“I will.” 

They eat, stuff themselves full with the most delicious food Chanyeol’s ever tasted, though he can’t say for certain if that’s because of the food itself or because of the company. Junmyeon is sparkling, the diamond of the sea, and Chanyeol, even though it’s only been a couple months, he knows he is in love, knows that he would do just about anything for him. 

Junmyeon sips at the bottle of tangerine flavored sparkling water, his personal favorite, and Chanyeol smiles at him as he uses the napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth. 

“Is it time for presents?” he says, gently placing the napkin back to the surface of the rock. 

“Sure,” Chanyeol says. “You wanna go first?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t wait for an answer, only smiles coyly at Chanyeol before diving down into the ocean, leaving Chanyeol laughing. He pops back up a moment later, grinning, but when he offers Chanyeol a small slab of stone, he looks shy, just like the first time they met. 

Chanyeol takes the stone in his hand, turns it over. It is a dark grey color, nearly black, and harder than any other stone Chanyeol’s ever held in hand. On the front of the polished, slick stone, there are a series of carvings, circles intersected by lines, a maze of them, each circle a bit bigger than the size of his finger tip. 

“W-What is it?” Chanyeol asks, and he runs his fingers over the etchings, over the ridges of the rock. 

“It is a singing stone,” Junmyeon says, and he takes one of Chanyeol’s hands in his, curls it into a fist, turns it over so that his knuckles brush up against the stone. “Play it.” 

Curious, Chanyeol knocks one of his knuckles against a circle, and the otherworldly, ethereal sound that vibrates through him is delicious, gorgeous, and it hums through the air like a soprano. 

“O-Oh my god.” He knocks against another circle, lower on the stone, and the frequency changes, the pitch much lower than before, though just as sweet. “Holy shit, this is—” 

“Do you like it?” Junmyeon asks eagerly. “It is—I thought you might enjoy it.” 

“How did you find this?” Chanyeol says in awe, absently tapping his knuckles against the rock to make a little jingle. “This is fucking—” 

“Oh.” And Chanyeol looks up, sees Junmyeon staring at him. “I made it.” 

“You _made_ it?” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, and he looks around nervously before looking into Chanyeol’s eyes shyly. “Is that—should I not have crafted something for this occasion? Oh, I’m such a fool.” 

Chanyeol sets the stone down gently before pulling Junmyeon to him, kissing him fast. It is a deep kiss, a lush kiss, and he puts as much of himself into it, feels just as much of Junmyeon in return. His chest works when they part, and Junmyeon is smiling at him, sheepish. 

“I love it,” Chanyeol says, and he has to bite his tongue, stopping himself from adding _I love you._ “L-Let me show you yours.” 

He is quick to shove the bag into Junmyeon’s hands, watching him get everything all wet. But it doesn’t matter. Chanyeol set everything up before hand.

“Oh, this...,” Junmyeon says, and he holds the little orange camera out in front of him, staring into the lens before turning it over in his hand. “What is it? Is it a toy?” 

“It’s a camera.” Chanyeol grabs his phone, wiggles it from side to side. “Like this, but... but you can use it underwater! Well, up to a certain number of feet. Sorry, all the other options, were like... _crazy_ expensive, you don’t even know. But, uh, you can take pictures, swim up, and then you can show me or whatever! I could even get them developed!” He shakes his head. “God, the more I talk about this, the dumber I feel, I just—” 

Junmyeon tugs him down by the collar of his shirt, dripping wet and tense, and he kisses Chanyeol just the same as Chanyeol kissed him, full of passion, full of confidence, full of love. When they part, Chanyeol is staring into his eyes, feeling the brunt of that force, the waves overtaking him. 

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, watery, “Chanyeol, you—” 

“I just thought that, I mean, I’ve gotten to show you everything about up here,” Chanyeol says, feeling his own eyes tear up as he speaks. “Now you can show me everything about down there.” 

“C-Chanyeol,” Junmyeon stutters, lip wobbling, and he holds the camera close to his body. “Chanyeol, I have never received a gift that means quite as much as this means to me.” 

“S-Stop.” 

“I’m quite serious,” Junmyeon says. “This is... Chanyeol, you are so good to me. I can only hope that I might be able to... oh, I don’t know, _try_ to repay you somehow.” 

“Y-You don’t have to try,” Chanyeol admits. “You’ve never really had to try.”  
  


♆

The pictures that Junmyeon brings back are like nothing Chanyeol has ever fucking seen.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Junmyeon says, waving his hand like he _actually_ believes its nothing. 

The city underneath the sea is stunning, huge structures carved from metallic shining stones, intricate columns marking the sides of a series of interconnecting caves. Each building seems to bear a sign, a language that Chanyeol’s eyes can’t understand but looks like a sister-language of Thai, all curving and notched and swirled. Junmyeon’s taken many pictures of the coral that stretches below, deep-water corals of white, red, and orange that fan and wave in the tides. 

It is wonderful to get pictures to aid in his understanding of Junmyeon’s world below, and Junmyeon talks him through it, shows him the place where he was born, where he began his apprenticeship, where he first sang on his own, his voice soaring beneath the waves. He can only imagine the way his soft, heavenly song floated up to the surface. He wonders if he might have heard it, some lonesome night. 

Maybe it wasn’t so lonesome after all. 

He sees pictures of other Mer, friends and family, all members of his school, and he sees Junmyeon’s collection of things, something straight out of _The Little Mermaid_. 

“I resent that,” Junmyeon says. “Ariel has nothing on me, and I have never _once_ deigned to brush my hair with a fork.” 

“That’s because you have an intense and inexplicable fear of eating utensils,” Chanyeol says, and he continues to scroll through the masterful pictures, fish of all shapes, sizes and colors, framed against seaweed and blue water. “Shit, you’re like, _good_ at this. These could be in magazines.” 

“Oh, hush now,” Junmyeon says, but he looks over Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Do you really think so?”  
  


♆

Slowly, the world thaws around them, and things move forward as the spring approaches. Now, he hardly needs to wear a coat, and now, he only occasionally gets a mild case of hypothermia when he kisses Junmyeon.

Still, it doesn’t surprise him that Junmyeon wonders about when Chanyeol will get into the water with him. And truth be told, if he was any less sensitive, he thinks he’d already be treading water, surrounded by the whistling rocks. 

“Why won’t you ever swim with me?” Junmyeon pouts. 

“Well, currently, the water temperature is...,” and Chanyeol dramatically checks his phone before continuing, “thirty eight degrees. I think I might die.” 

“You are so fragile.” Junmyeon couples it with a scowl that almost immediately softens. “But perhaps when the water warms?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “When it gets a little warmer.” 

Junmyeon flips his tail happily, the iridescence glimmering in the winter sun. He leans back, the wet skin of his stomach shining as he rests against a rock, his hands behind his head. 

“I cannot wait for the spring now,” Junmyeon says. “I will show you many things, my love.” 

Chanyeol swallows thickly, thinking of their bodies twisting together in pleasantly cool ocean, all of his heat zapped away by the cold of Junmyeon’s skin.  
  


♆

When spring finally arrives, the town of Aria is decked in flowers. Chanyeol works in the middle of the day to fix the container gardens in front of the bed and breakfast, he and Mrs. Huang occasionally working side by side. He checks his phone, checks the temperature of the ocean: _66°_. Still a bit cold, but he’s gonna tough it out for Junmyeon. They’ve been looking forward to their swim seemingly forever now.

“What do you look so happy about?” Mrs. Huang says, slowly lowering some crocus bulbs into the earth. “You always look so happy these days.” 

“Is that bad?” Chanyeol asks. “Being happy?” 

“Yes. Makes me worry.” 

He snorts, content to finish up with his pansies. 

When he’s finished, he heads back to his place, slips into his suit, and packs a bag with a change of clothes, just in case. He can’t pretend like he isn’t a _little_ nervous. After all, this is _Junmyeon’s_ territory, born and bred in the water. Chanyeol can hold his own, obviously, but who could hang with a literal fish? 

“I am _not_ a fish,” Junmyeon says snottily. “I am of the Mer.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chanyeol says, getting up onto his rock and sitting close to the edge. “The honorable Mer and their long, storied past.” 

Junmyeon smiles, looks at Chanyeol’s flowery shorts. “Is this the _suit_ that you spoke of?” He plays with the hem. “It is very cute, my pearl.” 

Chanyeol regrets choosing them over a pair of old gym shorts, but when Junmyeon pushes up between Chanyeol’s spread legs, laying a kiss to Chanyeol’s lips, his whole body goes warm, and he forgets all about his trunks. 

He strips out of his shirt, and he lays it on the rock as Junmyeon waits eagerly. 

“Now, I did pass my swim test, but I have to warn you now, I will probably not be able to keep up with you,” Chanyeol says. 

“Oh, you’re being silly, I’m sure you’re a lovely swimmer!” Junmyeon encourages, and he pulls Chanyeol by the hand until he is on the very edge of the rock. “Come on now! Jump in!” 

Junmyeon stares up at him, the little twist of dark hair curling along his forehead, his bright green eyes lustrous and enticing. 

Chanyeol jumps into the water, immediately shooting back out as the cold eats through his blood easily. 

“O-Oh fuck,” Chanyeol says, and he chatters his teeth together, wondering how he managed to not die the first time he jumped in. “M-maybe we should have waited for a-another day?” 

“The water is the warmest it’s been all year,” Junmyeon pouts. “Please? I want to show you my favorite place in the whole world.” 

Junmyeon closes the gap between them, ghosts a chaste kiss against Chanyeol’s lips as their bodies press together, skin against skin for the first time ever. Chanyeol shivers against him, makes a soft noise of pleasure that he doesn’t mean to make. Then, he feels Junmyeon’s tail flip against his feet, and it is so foreign that Chanyeol leaks out another noise, this time of surprising arousal. 

He pushes back out of Junmyeon’s arms, horrified that he’s even able to _get_ a quarter chub in the cold water. 

“My love? Are you well?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “Yeah, sorry, just... just a little cold.” 

“Let’s wait a moment, then,” Junmyeon says. “And then, we’ll be off.” 

Junmyeon crowds back into Chanyeol’s space, makes Chanyeol part his legs to make room for Junmyeon’s tail between them. They have a natural buoyancy, floating there in the little whirlpool, and he is charmed off his fucking ass when Junmyeon takes him by the back of the neck, kisses his lips sweetly. His blood runs cold with desire, with want, and he leaks another moan out as he feels Junmyeon stroke his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair. It is everything he’s been thinking of and more, everything he’s dreamed of but been too afraid to bring up, even to himself. 

“All right?” Junmyeon asks, and by then, Chanyeol has completely forgotten about the chill. 

Junmyeon gingerly adjusts Chanyeol’s body, helping him to get behind Junmyeon, moving Chanyeol’s legs up until they are wrapped around his waist, sitting just above the ridge between Junmyeon’s upper body and his tail. 

“Ready?” Junmyeon looks back, smiles, and Chanyeol threads his arms around Junmyeon’s neck like he’s a spider monkey. 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol says nervously. “How fast are you going to go?” 

“Not very fast.” He taps on Chanyeol’s feet. “The resistance.” 

“O-Oh, right.” 

Without another word, Junmyeon swims. And Chanyeol hangs on. 

He can swim _much_ faster than he’s ever displayed to Chanyeol, and it leaves Chanyeol’s mind reeling. If this is not very fast, then he wonders what fast might look like? 

Feeling the power of Junmyeon’s body against his own, the effortless elegance of his movements, the way he shoulders Chanyeol’s weight easily in the water, it is so enrapturing, so incredible. He stares at the breadth of Junmyeon’s shoulders in wonder, his trapezius muscles flexing as he swims. 

He leans down, wraps his arms tighter around Junmyeon, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Okay?” Junmyeon asks. “Will you be all right if we go a bit further?” 

Chanyeol looks back over his shoulder, amazed to see that they are already so far from shore that he doesn’t think he’d be able to make it back without Junmyeon. 

“Yes, that would be okay,” Chanyeol says. 

Junmyeon taps Chanyeol’s feet with a hand, and Chanyeol lets go of his hold around Junmyeon’s waist, lets his legs float behind them as Junmyeon glides them through the water, knifing through like it’s butter. Chanyeol looks at the world whipping past them, thinking how lucky he is. He rode a dolphin once, and that shit is boring compared to Junmyeon. 

It is not long before they happen upon a beach, a long forgotten stretch at the end of the Singing Coast that has fallen into disrepair. Distantly, growing as they approach the shore, Chanyeol can spot an old lifeguard stand, the sign detailing the rules for water safety battered by wind and rain, sea and salt. 

The beach is overrun by wildlife, by railroad vines and long sprouts of seagrass and oats. It is green, red, beige, and gold, and the trees at the back of the beach are tall and green, sprouting white spring flowers. 

It looks like heaven or some approximation of it, and Chanyeol laughs in amazement as they skim their way to the shore, wading in the water. 

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol says. “What is this place?” 

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says with a shrug. “I just remember it from when I was a child. I used to come here and play with the humans. I made friends easily with them.” He smiles, looking out at the shoreline. “Once I thought of it as the happiest time of my life.” 

“A-And now?” 

The waves lap at them, gentle under the early morning sun. Junmyeon kisses him softly, drawing a sound from Chanyeol as their bodies press together, as Junmyeon holds him steadily. 

“And now, every day I spend with you is the new happiest day of my life,” he says. “It is exhausting, living like this.” He smiles, rubs his nose against Chanyeol’s. “How will you help me?” 

His breath against Chanyeol’s mouth is erotic, and he licks into Junmyeon’s mouth, letting his hands play around Junmyeon’s neck. 

“However you want,” Chanyeol says. “However I can.”  
  


♆

They spend more and more time in the water as the spring warms the world through. Chanyeol sometimes takes a boat out with Junmyeon so that they can spend more of the day together after Chanyeol’s fingers and toes get all wrinkly. He shows him various water sports, sailing and windsurfing. Chanyeol also gets to try his hand at algae skimming, and for all Junmyeon’s huffing and puffing about how great he is, Chanyeol wipes the floor with him, hooting and hollering to the sky when he wins his first match.

It’s fun, it’s wonderful, and Chanyeol can’t help himself. He watches the way Junmyeon moves. Watches the way his body twists and turns, the way his muscles tense. Junmyeon is so casual with his touches, with his affection, and Chanyeol can only assume that that means that he has no idea about sex, no interest in it. 

But he laughed at the fake orgasm scene in _When Harry Met Sally_, Chanyeol reasons. He must have gotten at least some education, somewhere along the line. Or maybe he just thinks Meg Ryan is funny? 

It is a Sunday afternoon, and they are wading in the water near the forgotten beach, one of their favorite places to go now. That’s when Chanyeol brings it up. 

“So, have you talked to Sandhya recently?” Chanyeol says, trying to feign disinterest. 

“Just yesterday, in fact,” Junmyeon says happily, and he dots a kiss to the center of Chanyeol’s lips. “Why? She did not seem angry with you, if that’s what you were wondering.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “No, I was just—she shows you magazines and stuff, right?” He gestures, flipping the pages. “Like, girl stuff?” 

Junmyeon squints. 

“It isn’t _girl_ stuff,” Junmyeon says, and he wags his finger at Chanyeol. “That is the patriarchy speaking through you.” 

“God, I shouldn’t have introduced you to such a good feminist,” Chanyeol says. “Anyway, magazines.” 

“Oh, yes, all sorts,” Junmyeon says. 

“Like?” 

“Like?” Junmyeon tilts his head. “I’m not following, Chanyeol.” 

“Like, what kind of magazines.” 

Junmyeon swishes his tail. “Well, there are all sorts, just as I said. The classics, of course. _Vogue, Elle, GQ, Harper’s Bazaar._ And then, there is what Sandhya calls filth. Those are often our favorite kinds.” Junmyeon smiles, pressing a kiss to Chanyeol’s cheek. “Is that what you were looking for?” 

“What are the filth magazines?” Chanyeol asks. “Like, do you remember names?” 

“Cosmopolitan, mostly,” Junmyeon smiles. “Did you know that I am a Gemini sun and a Virgo moon? I am learning all kinds of things from astrology. Apparently, this means I have perfectionist tendencies, and I place a lot of pressure on myself to live up to my own expectations.” 

“Do you guys, like, read all the articles?” Chanyeol asks. 

“Every one,” Junmyeon smiles. 

“Oh my god.” 

When Chanyeol gets back on dry land, he immediately Googles “cosmopolitan magazine april 2019” and finds the first couple of headlines easy enough to write off: “Hey, it’s Aries season (This is good news for you),” “Nap your way to next-level lashes,” and “The Hills: L.A.’s original cool girls are back.” 

But then, down at the left hand corner, he sees it. His worst nightmare. 

“The Sexcellence Awards: 100+ Toys Tested (Only 10 Approved)”  
  


♆

He goes to the Dirty Dozen the next afternoon, and Sandhya is asleep behind the counter.

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, nudging her elbow off the counter until she wakes up, nearly busting her jaw on the formica. “Morning.” 

“What the _heck_,” Sandhya screeches. “You’re evil.” 

“No, _you’re_ evil,” Chanyeol says, pointing a finger at her. “You’re showing him _Cosmo_?” 

Sandhya scoffs. “You sound like a dad from the 1950s.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m showing him Cosmo. You got a problem?” 

“Y-Yeah! I mean, a pretty giant problem,” Chanyeol says. “Sex toys?” 

Sandhya’s eyes go wide as she suddenly looks a lot less relaxed, scrambling forward to slap a hand over his mouth before he knocks it away. 

“Holy shit, keep your _voice_ down,” she whispers. “My _parents_ are here.” 

“Whatever, just... keep the filth away from him.” Chanyeol folds his arms across his chest. “He’s very sensitive.” 

“He’s not that sensitive,” Sandhya says, and she mirrors him, folding her arms across her chest with a cocky smile. “Or, if he was, _you_ wouldn’t know.” 

“And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?” 

“You’ve never done it, according to him.” 

Chanyeol sputters, not incredibly keen on discussing his sex life with someone who still says _it_. “That’s none of your business!” He turns, begins to walk out before he thinks better of it. “Wait, how much has he told you?” 

“Your boy is an open book, and I am an avid reader,” Sandhya says proudly before she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “You like using a lot of tongue, huh?” 

“_God, gross_,” Chanyeol says, and he turns on his heel again, shouting to the ceiling as he walks away. “Don’t talk to him about that stuff!” 

“Who else is he gonna talk to about this kind of thing?” 

_Me,_ Chanyeol thinks.  
  


♆

Chanyeol has a busy afternoon because the Jeep has been making a clicking sound, so he has to take a look at it before he repairs the seal of the toilet in the upstairs suite. As far as he’s concerned, that’s a pretty packed schedule. He swings by the beach early for their normal morning routine anyway, a doughnut for Junmyeon in a little paper bag.

Junmyeon pops out of the water with a smile, and when Chanyeol tells him he won’t be able to hang around with him for a swim, that they won’t be able to have lunch together, that they’ll have to wait until after dinner, Junmyeon wears a powdered sugar mustache across his lip. 

“That’s okay,” Junmyeon says, and he quickly licks away the white, smiling up at Chanyeol before taking another bite, talking with his mouth full. “I’ll see you tonight, then.” 

“Sure,” Chanyeol says, and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants the day to pass quickly. “Maybe a swim?. Later tonight?” 

Junmyeon swallows, and Chanyeol watches the line of his throat roll, watches the way the slits on his neck ripple in the early morning light. 

“I’d like that,” Junmyeon says. “I’d like that very much.”  
  


♆

It is a comfort, knowing that Junmyeon is waiting for him after, and no matter how frustrating or difficult his day is, he’s able to take solace in the fact that he has something to look forward to. Some_one_ to look forward to.

The beach is dotted with people late at night, but Chanyeol waits for them all to leave, clicking his phone to check the time. The world is dark, the sky speckled with stars, and when he heads over to the rocks, he hears Junmyeon waiting, one of his songs floating through the air. 

Chanyeol steps into the water, hidden behind the smattering of rocks. He wades out until he is chest deep, and then he hums the same pretty song, an octave lower than Junmyeon. Junmyeon stops singing, but Chanyeol finishes out the melody. He knows it by heart now. 

“Hey,” Junmyeon says, and he cuts through the water like it’s nothing, taking Chanyeol into an embrace. “You surprised me.” 

The water is warm, but Junmyeon is pleasantly cold, and the feeling of his skin and scales against Chanyeol is wonderful. 

“My intention,” Chanyeol says, and he leans forward, presses a soft kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. “I thought about you all day.” 

“Just as I thought of you.” Junmyeon trails thoughtless, clever fingers along the column of Chanyeol’s neck. “Every minute we’re apart, I think of you.” He closes the gap between them again, and they kiss longer, like they’re getting reacquainted, like it’s been a year instead of the afternoon. 

Chanyeol makes a soft noise of happiness when Junmyeon pulls back, and the sound vibrates through them both, wrapped so tightly together that each little movement feels like an earthquake. 

“Have you thought much about what happens next November?” Chanyeol asks. “Maybe... maybe we’ll spend the day together? But, like, onshore?” 

“Of course we will,” Junmyeon says, and even in the darkness, Chanyeol can see the color in his cheeks. “I would not spend it with anyone else.” 

Their bodies slip and slide against each other in the water, and Chanyeol wonders how to bring it up elegantly, how to ask just how much he knows, how to talk about something that he’d rather not talk about at all. 

“What are you wondering, my love?” Junmyeon strokes his hand against Chanyeol’s cheek. “You look troubled.” 

“No, not... not troubled,” Chanyeol says. “I just... I guess I wanted to talk to you about something sort of uncomfortable.” 

Junmyeon tilts his head to the side cutely, the way he always does when he doesn’t understand something. “Uncomfortable?” He kisses Chanyeol sweetly, smiling when he pulls back. “What could be uncomfortable?” 

“Lots of things,” Chanyeol says, and oh, then he is rambling. “Talking about, like, bowel movements a-and weird rashes, family problems, discharge, and, like, sex.” 

“We can talk about those things,” Junmyeon says with a shy smile. “It would not make me uncomfortable to hear of your discharge.” 

“I meant, like, theoretical discharge. I don’t have discharge.” 

“But it would be okay to discuss it if you did,” Junmyeon says. 

“I-I guess,” Chanyeol says. “Are you really okay with talking about stuff like this?” 

Junmyeon smiles at him again, but this time, he looks at Chanyeol in that way that says _What do you take me for, you stupid human? I am the fourteenth son of my school. I know of the tides._

“Of course, I am okay with it,” Junmyeon says. “Are you?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “I think I’d like to talk about uncomfortable stuff with you.” 

Junmyeon pushes him back against one of the whistling rocks, his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders, and he grins at him. 

“Begin.” 

“Begin?” 

“Begin,” Junmyeon says. “Proceed with the uncomfortable topic you wished to discuss with me this evening.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Because you _did_ wish to discuss something with me, isn’t that right?” 

Chanyeol _hates_ him. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “That’s right.” 

“Then begin,” Junmyeon says, and he lays his head on Chanyeol’s chest, his arms wrapping around Chanyeol’s body. “I will listen.” 

It’s easier to say when he isn’t looking Junmyeon in the eye like some kind of Disney creation, so he breathes in slowly, breathes out sharply, and just fucking says it. 

“Have you thought about how we would... take the next step in our relationship?” 

Junmyeon pulls back sharply, and well, there goes _that_. 

“The next step?” Junmyeon says. “Is this our defining the relationship?” 

“God, that girl,” Chanyeol groans. “I mean, we’re already together, so that’s pretty well defined, isn’t it?” 

“Our emotional relationship, yes, that is well-defined,” Junmyeon agrees. “But our physical relationship, we’ve yet to discuss it.” 

It’s then that Junmyeon strokes a hand down Chanyeol’s bare chest, a finger trailing the line of his abdomen. Chanyeol sucks in air, surprised, and it makes his ribcage stand out more prominently. He holds his breath, and Junmyeon’s curious hand wanders to stroke along the underside, making Chanyeol shudder out a soft sound. 

“Y-Yeah, I guess we haven’t talked much about it yet,” Chanyeol says. “A-Are you interested in pursuing a... well, a physical relationship?” 

Junmyeon looks up into Chanyeol’s eyes, and the water laughs around them, the night eager with movement. 

“Yes, I think so,” Junmyeon says, and there is a strange innocence in his eyes, the kind Chanyeol can’t challenge. “What would it entail?” 

Chanyeol looks down at the water, can’t look in his eyes. 

“It’s, uh, I know you’ve read those magazines,” Chanyeol says. “But it’s different for—I mean, it’s not exactly the same.” 

“How would it be any different?” Junmyeon asks. “It seems very easy, after all.” 

“Y-Yeah, but for—,” and he gestures between the two of them, “me and you.” 

“You and I?” 

“Men,” Chanyeol clarifies. “It’s a little different.” 

“Interesting,” Junmyeon says. “And it would require more work?” 

“A bit,” Chanyeol says. 

“Hm,” and Junmyeon leans forward, begins to suck a mark to Chanyeol’s neck as he thinks. It is pure torture. “Well, I suppose we’ve got plenty of time to do our research, don’t we?” 

“Y-Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees. “Plenty of time.”  
  


♆

Chanyeol lies in bed that night, and his resolves shatters like a sheet of glass as he strokes a hand down his chest, unable to forget the way Junmyeon touched him. The way Junmyeon kissed him. The way Junmyeon seems to _breath_ with promises.

_What would it be like? To have him? To love him?_

He doesn't know the logistics of it yet, doesn’t even know if Junmyeon will be interested once he finds out the literal ins and outs, but in his head, it is easy to imagine Junmyeon the way he was last November 27th. Thin legs twisting over one another, still a bit ungainly thanks to disuse. Chanyeol wouldn't mind. He would wait until Junmyeon was ready, until he was comfortable. Until he asked for it. And then... oh, _then_.

Chanyeol circles his hand around the base of his rapidly hardening cock, and he strokes until each pull draws a moan from his throat. He can still taste the ocean on his tongue, salty but somehow sweet, like Junmyeon is somehow still there with him. _God_, what would it feel like to have Junmyeon wrapped up in his arms? What would he sound like when he was on the edge of orgasm? What would he do? What would he say?

Chanyeol imagines Junmyeon stroking clever fingers down his breastbone, down the line of his stomach. Chanyeol imagines Junmyeon kissing a mark to his neck, imagines the way he'd slither down Chanyeol's body with a clear goal in mind. Chanyeol imagines the way Junmyeon would kiss at the head of his cock. Chanyeol imagines the way Junmyeon would swallow him down, soft cleft of his throat fluttering wetly around his length. Chanyeol imagines the way Junmyeon would draw him to the edge with a pull of his hand, a polishing to the head of his cock.

He mirrors the dream, uses one hand to hold his cock by the base, the palm of his other hand to tantalizingly skate across the head. It is _torturous_, the sensitivity sending shock-waves through his body, and he nearly screams when he imagines the way Junmyeon might grin mischievously at him as he whimpered and whined, _begged_ for release.

_Please,_ he thinks. _Please make me come. Please let me come._

_Yes,_ Junmyeon would whisper, lips against Chanyeol's body, the vibrations sinful, slick. _Come for me._

He spills into his cupped palm, thighs quaking as he gives up, milking his cock through it, moaning weakly at the very end when he is so over-sensitized, when it feels so good that it fucking hurts. His body unbows, and the tension leaks out from him, all over the bed.

Chanyeol arches his neck up, looks into the palm of his hand and at the come that threatens to _literally_ leak out all over the bed. Hurriedly, he gets up, grabs a tissue from the bedside table, and he wipes his hand clean.

In a secret part of him, he's ashamed of himself. Sure, he's pretty confident that they’ve come to an understanding after their conversation, but still, something feels off. They kiss pretty much every single day and talk about how much they like each other, but he seems so... so _innocent_. Chanyeol doesn't know if he should be fantasizing about anything so lewd. He doesn't know if Junmyeon will want it when it’s _real_, right in front of him. 

Huffing, he balls up the napkin full of jizz and raises it high above his head, throwing it across the room to the wastebasket, flicking his wrist on the release. Of course, it bounces off the rim and onto the floor. Huffing once more, pants still open, he walks across the room, retrieves the tissue, and dutifully drops it into the trash before he buttons his pants again and grabbing his shower caddy. He steps into his flip flops, opens the door, and heads for the main house.

Maybe a shower will clear his mind. He's just about tried everything else.  
  


♆

Chanyeol doesn’t bring it back up, just waits for Junmyeon to come to him with the topic. Like hell he’s gonna bring up the difficulties of anal to a fucking mermaid.

Luckily (or unluckily, Chanyeol’s yet to decide), he doesn’t have to wait long. Within two days time, Junmyeon greets him in the evening with a weary smile as Chanyeol sets out their dinner. 

“What’s with the face?” Chanyeol asks, and he hands Junmyeon half the stromboli. “You okay?” 

“I’m... well, now I’m certainly aware of what you meant the other night when you said _differences_.” 

“Oh, god,” Chanyeol says. “Sandhya?” 

“She showed me some very... informative videos,” Junmyeon says, and he wears a vaguely traumatized look. 

Chanyeol can relate. 

“Look, I mean, that’s not the only way, okay?” Chanyeol says. “It’s not like you have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I mean, it’s different for every person, okay? So if you don’t wanna try it, if you aren’t interested in it, no big deal, okay? We can find... god, this feels so weird to talk about, but, uh, we can find something you like. Something you wanna do.” 

Junmyeon looks up into Chanyeol’s eyes hopefully, his hands clutching his stromboli. 

“Together?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol smiles. “Always together.”  
  


♆

Chanyeol puts it out of his mind, doesn’t think too much about it as the flowers bloom in May, as the weather gets progressively warmer. The water warms too, and Chanyeol’s swimming improves as a result. Junmyeon often gives him lessons, as though he’s a qualified teacher.

“It’s not fair,” Chanyeol says, splashing the water furiously after losing _yet another_ race to the sandbar. “You have a literal tail.” 

“Blaming my speed on my ability on my features....,” Junmyeon tuts. “Not very sportsmanlike.” 

“No, you don’t understand!” 

“Perhaps it is _you_ who doesn’t understand,” Junmyeon taunts, and he swishes through the water, his tail glimmering in the sun. “Come and catch me.” 

Chanyeol is not one to turn down a challenge, so, tired as he is, he zips through the water, flailing inelegantly whenever he gets close to Junmyeon. He can tell Junmyeon’s taking it easy on him, playing with kid gloves on, and that puts a fire in Chanyeol’s stomach. He swims as fast as he can, zigging and zagging as he trails Junmyeon, and even though it is Junmyeon _letting_ himself be caught, Chanyeol still feels the thrill of triumph run through his blood when he gets his hands on Junmyeon, exhausted as he lets Junmyeon keep them both afloat. 

“F-Fuck,” Chanyeol curses. “You’re... Jesus, you’re too fast.” 

He coughs, spits into the water next to them, and Junmyeon wrinkles his nose. 

“Are you all right?” Junmyeon asks, and he slowly raises Chanyeol’s legs to hitch up around his waist, his ankles locking behind Junmyeon’s back. “Shall I take you back to shore?” 

“N-No,” Chanyeol breathes heavily, his chest working furiously. “No, I’ll be okay in a minute.” 

“Very well, then,” Junmyeon says, and he directs Chanyeol to rest his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Rest now.” 

It is a quiet moment in the late Spring afternoon, the sun hot on his skin. He is being supported by perhaps the single most beautiful, kind, funny, stupidly cool creature he’s ever met. He is in his happy place, floating out of his body for a bit, thinking about how lucky he is. 

"Chanyeol, may I... oh, never mind, it's silly," Junmyeon says, and when Chanyeol pushes back, able to tread water again, Junmyeon is shaking his head.

His hair falls into his face just a bit, and Chanyeol finds it so cute. He reaches out, brushes it away, and Junmyeon stares up at him. Chanyeol has no choice, of course. He _has_ to lean down. He _has_ to press a kiss to Junmyeon's lips. He _has_ to take Junmyeon's cheek in his hand. How else is he supposed to convey just how much he cares for Junmyeon? With words? Not a fucking chance. He doesn't think there are even words capable of capturing it.

"What is it?" Chanyeol asks.

"I said it's silly."

"It's not." He rubs his thumb against Junmyeon's cheek. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just that... well, of course, you remember our conversation from the other day, don't you?"

Hot water falls down Chanyeol's throat and into his stomach, and he can practically trace the movement with his fingers, the way it spreads through his body. Of course he remembers their conversation. In truth, he hasn't stopped thinking about their conversation.

"Uh, which conversation?" he asks.

"About sex," Junmyeon clarifies. "Do you remember it?"

"Y-Yeah," Chanyeol says. "I remember."

"I thought it was interesting, of course," Junmyeon says, and he flips his tail fin through the water, sending little waves along the gently waving surface of the water. "I'd never really thought about how a man might... how they might... well, you know."

"Right. Yeah, I, uh. I get it. It's sort of disgusting if you think too hard about it." He pulls his hand back from Junmyeon, uses the cold to act as an ice pack against the back of his own neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to gross you out or anything."

"I'm not grossed out, Chanyeol," Junmyeon smiles. "I wanted to be upfront and clear because communication is important. I want to have sex with you."

Chanyeol’s knees practically buckle when the words fall thoughtlessly from Junmyeon’s mouth, like he’s been thinking about it at night when Chanyeol watches him swim away. Like he’s interested. Like he’s not as innocent or as disgusted as Chanyeol once thought. 

“L-Like I said,” Chanyeol says, “there are lots of ways to do it. It doesn’t just have to be—” 

“I know, I know,” Junmyeon says, waving his hand. “But after much research and a bit of preparation, I think it would be most pleasing.” 

“_Most pleasing_,” Chanyeol mocks. 

“Hot,” Junmyeon says. “Is that better?” 

“Better and worse.” 

“How so?” Junmyeon smiles. 

“Better because I feel like I’m not talking to a vampire from the 1700s,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon spits out a laugh. “Worse because now we have to wait.” 

Junmyeon’s eyes go dark, emerald green and shimmering as his skin brushes against Chanyeol’s. “Isn’t there something nice about waiting?” He licks his lips before he kisses Chanyeol, and it tastes like tomorrow, like the day after and the day after that.  
  


♆

When summer is upon them, the streets and the beaches are flooded with tourists, people who have shacked up in the pastel-colored summer homes for a week, kids who shout in the doughnut and coffee shops. There is a certain charm about being in Aria in the height of the heat, something electric about the smell of sunscreen and barbecue.

But they have to be more careful in the summer, have to keep their meetings to the evenings. Too many people get up to watch the sunrise when they’re on vacation, in Chanyeol’s estimation, and even if Junmyeon is okay with meeting Sandhya, he’d rather not let him make international news by spilling the secrets of the Mer. 

Junmyeon, of course, is not impressed. 

“They will think it is a costume,” Junmyeon says late one night, swimming through the dark waters as Chanyeol watches. “People will take every opportunity given to reinforce the beliefs they currently hold.” 

“That is weirdly deep,” Chanyeol says. “Stop, I don’t like when you’re deep.” 

Junmyeon lowers his mouth to the water, begins to blow bubbles along the surface. Chanyeol then sticks his feet in the water, and Junmyeon sits up straight with a look of disgust that Chanyeol just has to laugh at. 

There is another quiet moment, one they share between them, and Chanyeol listens to the lapping of the water against the rocks, listens to the gentle warm winds, listens to Junmyeon’s hums, a little melody he thinks up on the spot. He is masterful, he is wonderful, and Chanyeol loves him, loves him with all his heart. 

“Shit.” 

Junmyeon tilts his head. 

“What?” 

“I just realized,” Chanyeol says, almost dumbstruck by the suddenness of the thought. “I’ve never told you I loved you.” 

Junmyeon raises his eyebrows in shock, and Chanyeol finds he likes that look immensely. 

“O-Oh, haven’t you?” 

“At least I don’t remember saying it?” 

“No, I don’t think you have,” Junmyeon says, and he nervously itches the back of his neck. “Not yet.” 

“But you know, right?” Chanyeol asks. “You know that I love you, right?” 

Junmyeon looks down at the water, hands at his face. 

“Could you say it?” 

“Say what?” 

He looks up with flaming red cheeks, and Chanyeol is shocked by the delight in his face. 

“Say it,” Junmyeon says. 

“I love you.” 

“You do?” Junmyeon asks, like Chanyeol could ever not love him, like this wasn’t fucking inevitable. Like Chanyeol wasn’t born to love him. 

“Of course I do.” 

“I love you,” Junmyeon says. “I really do.” 

Chanyeol leaps down into the water, getting his shirt and his shorts all wet, but in that moment, nothing matters more than kissing Junmyeon, telling him again and again. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

It is a great while before Junmyeon stops them, puts an inch of distance between their mouths. Chanyeol looks down at Junmyeon’s lips, runs his thumb along the bottom one until Junmyeon sucks in a shivering breath. _Not much longer now_, he thinks. _Just the rest of the summer, and once the leaves start falling, I’ll be able to take him anywhere._

“You make me so nervous,” Junmyeon confesses. 

“What do you mean? What makes you say that?” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” His fingers curl into a ball, and he punches the fist against Chanyeol’s sternum gently. “You couldn’t possibly understand.” 

Chanyeol bats Junmyeon’s hand away, and when Chanyeol gathers him into a hug, Junmyeon’s arms circle around Chanyeol’s waist, holding him close. 

“Try me,” he whispers into Junmyeon’s ear, and he feels the shiver run down Junmyeon’s body. 

Junmyeon leans back, chin tilted down, eyelashes low, before he looks into Chanyeol’s eyes. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Chanyeol answers. 

Junmyeon bites his lip as he stares at Chanyeol, studies his face as if scanning for weakness, and Chanyeol stands up straighter, lets the smile fade away. _I’m ready,_ he thinks. _You can tell me anything._

“You know of my people,” Junmyeon says slowly, and the water laps at them as if to remind him that it’s there. _Our people_, Chanyeol thinks. _I want to be a part of this._

“Yes,” Chanyeol says with a dopey grin. “Yes, of course.” 

“And we have… we have our history.” 

“Right.” 

"We've always been able to walk freely between worlds." He says it sadly, like he's reciting a eulogy. "We could always shift when we desired. Land one day. Sea the next. We could do as we pleased. We lived happily. We got along so well with the people. My parents... they told the people we were fishermen. They used to sell the fresh catch to the local restaurants." He smiles as if he's remembering. "I would walk with my mother to make the deliveries. I remember my legs... oh, they hurt so bad at first, when I first started shifting. I always asked her to carry me home."

"That's so sweet," Chanyeol says, and he dots a kiss to Junmyeon's nose. "You were probably the cutest little kid."

Junmyeon smiles, smiles like he can't help it, but it fades so fast, writing in the sand.

"When I was young, so young I almost can’t remember it, something terrible happened," Junmyeon says. "There was a horrible storm. It left our homes in ruin. It left our society crumbling. And it brought a witch. She had two legs, just as you do, but she could breathe underwater, just as we could. She was fearsome. Terrible. She had white eyes, white hair, and pink skin, so pale you could see the branches of her veins, dark purple and pulsing. I… I hated her as soon as I saw her. I knew that she was mean. I just knew it."

He sniffs back more tears, and he buries his face into Chanyeol's chest again just as Chanyeol shivers. 

"She put a curse on us. A terrible curse. Because once upon a time, of course, we could walk among you. We could control the shift when we wanted. But when she waved her hand, everything changed. We could no longer control the shift. We were confined to the water. It was our prison. Except... for one night a year."

It is a tragedy, of course, a terrible tragedy. Chanyeol thinks about what his life could be like if Junmyeon could control his shift all year long. They could live anywhere. They could do anything. They could be whoever they wanted to be.

“It’s all right,” Chanyeol says. He takes Junmyeon’s shoulders in his hands, caps them before he lets them slide down his back, embracing him. “It’s okay, Junmyeon. I don’t mind all that.” 

“No, you—I’m trying to tell you,” Junmyeon says. “There’s a way to change it. There’s a way to end the curse.” 

“T-There is?” 

“There are a pair of lovers,” Junmyeon says. “A fated pair.” 

“Yeah?” Chanyeol gets closer, close enough that he can feel Junmyeon’s cool breath on his face. “What about them?” 

“There... there was a prophecy.” 

“Do you remember it?” 

Junmyeon’s eyes are wet when he starts to sing, and the song, it is sad, sweet. 

“_On the rise of the eleventh as the cold waters stir, destined lovers shall bind, magic unknowable lying dormant in the deep beneath. Once broken but twice mended, they shall unwind the hands of time, skin and scale joined again under the light of the boundless sun._” 

“W-Wow,” Chanyeol says, at first overwhelmed by the beauty before scratching his head at the words. “That’s... vague, isn’t it?” 

Junmyeon shrugs a shoulder, “It is. My parents told me that many have tried to fulfill the prophecy. Found lovers, took them to bed during the Eve.” He sniffs, wipes his face. “Many have tried, and so far, none have succeeded.” 

“And you think—”

“Maybe we,” Junmyeon says, and he looks up at Chanyeol with watery eyes. “Maybe it could be us.” 

There is an overwhelming swelling of purpose that bubbles up from Chanyeol’s stomach. 

“Us?” he asks. “Like, you and I?” 

“Don’t you think we could?” Junmyeon says. “Don’t you think we fit? _Skin and scale_?”

“But you’ve got that,” Chanyeol says. “Skin... a-and scale.” 

“It was always meant to be a pair of us,” Junmyeon says. “One of you and one of us.” 

His mind reels as he tries to process all of the information, as it filters through his brain. _Destined lovers, a curse_. It all sounds just as Sandhya said, like something out of a comic book or one of his high fantasy stories. 

But he can’t shake the feeling that perhaps Junmyeon’s made a mistake, that he thinks Chanyeol is special when in fact, he is the most simple person in the world. 

“I-I don’t know if I’m the right person.” He shakes his head with a small smile. “I think maybe you’re setting yourself up for failure.” 

“Failure?” Junmyeon asks. And he swims forward, into Chanyeol’s arms once more. He settles against his body, nuzzling his face into Chanyeol’s neck. “No, I don’t think so. I think you are the exact right person.” He lays a kiss against the hollow of Chanyeol’s throat, makes him suck in a breath. “I have wanted to be the one to free my people from the curse ever since I was young, but even when I ventured out on the Eve—,” and he presses another kiss to Chanyeol’s neck, “I never found anyone I thought I could learn to love.” He leans back, looks into Chanyeol’s eyes. “Not until you.” 

“But I’m... I’m so exceedingly normal,” Chanyeol says, and it sounds too vulnerable, even to his ears. “I’m not special. I’m not like you.” 

“My love, you are the most special thing in the world,” Junmyeon says, and he wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s body, hugs him close. “Didn’t I tell you once, if you ever needed to hear it, simply ask? You are special. So special to me. And that is all that matters.” 

Chanyeol breathes out, lets it shake through him, and he shuts his eyes, pressing a kiss to the side of Junmyeon’s face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Junmyeon says.

He withdraws from the embrace, a hand on Chanyeol’s face. 

“You could have,” Chanyeol says. “I know it must have been scary, but you could have told me.” 

“I didn’t want to put… unnecessary pressure on you. On us.” 

It makes Chanyeol think. Think back on every interaction, on every little word. Was he trying to find the right moment to tell him? Was he trying to test Chanyeol? Was he ever deliberating on their fate without Chanyeol even knowing? 

“D-Do you think… do you think maybe we’re _not_ the destined lovers?” 

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says, and for the first time, he looks genuinely scared. It makes Chanyeol want to hold him close, makes him want to protect them both from anything and everything. “Maybe what I want isn’t what I was meant for.” 

“A-And if it isn’t?” 

Junmyeon looks at him curiously. 

“You—I mean, the prophecy wasn’t the reason you fell in love with me, right?” Chanyeol continues. “That wasn’t why you... why we got together, right?” 

“Chanyeol, h-how could you think such a thing?” Junmyeon says. “How could you ask such a question?” 

“I just don’t—I want to make sure you’re in this for the right reason.” He rubs his fist against his eye. “I want to make sure I’m not setting myself up to get hurt.” 

Junmyeon takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands, makes it so that Chanyeol is looking directly into Junmyeon’s sea-green eyes. There is a storm within him, grey and foul, but Chanyeol looks passed it, sees all the love inside him buried down deep within. 

“I love you,” Junmyeon says. “I love you, and I want you to know that I love you for who you are, not what you can do for me.” 

Even as he says it, it looks as if he’s trying to convince himself of it, but Chanyeol shuts his eyes and leans forward anyway, stealing a kiss from Junmyeon as the sun sets around them, the waves rolling in and in and in.  
  


♆

Chanyeol decides not to let it bother him. Believing too heavily in prophecy, relying on them, staking your life on them—that never works out in any of his stories.

He vows not to think too much on it, even when July hits, even when it becomes harder and harder to see Junmyeon because of the heavy thrum of people. 

The bed and breakfast sees couples in and out like they’re walking through a revolving door, and Chanyeol is tasked with many odd jobs over the course of the month. It is a challenge, but they make time, often meeting late at night to swim to the forgotten beach together. 

“I think I came here once,” Chanyeol says, laying on the shore across from where Junmyeon lays in the shallow water, the waves pouring over his body. “When I was a kid.” 

“With your parents?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes, lets himself dream of that moment again. “Everything was easy as a kid.” 

“And now?” It makes Chanyeol open his eyes, staring at Junmyeon, the furious working of his gills, the iridescent glimmer of his scales. “Is it hard because of me?” 

Chanyeol reaches out, and he strokes his knuckles against the soft skin of Junmyeon’s cheek. Every time he touches Junmyeon, he’s afraid he’ll break him. Something so pure, so beautiful... it must be fragile too. 

“No,” Chanyeol says. “It isn’t hard.” 

“Do you swear it to me? And swear that, if it ever gets too hard, you’ll leave?” 

“I can’t swear that,” Chanyeol says with a smile. “I think I love you too much.”

Junmyeon furrows his brow with a frown, and he pushes himself forward across the shore line until they touch, a mess of sand and water and cold flesh, warmed by the other, the heat impossibly building as they kiss, as they make each other promises of a different sort.  
  


♆

Chanyeol starts a countdown on his phone once August hits, and each day, Junmyeon asks how many days left until the Eve. It is wonderful to see him so eager, and they start making plans there as the summer dies.

“We’ll have to visit your friend at the coffee shop once more,” Junmyeon says. “And, if you would, could you bring me some fashionable clothes?” 

“Uh, you’re gonna have to help me out on that front,” Chanyeol says. “I don’t think I’ll pick something you like.”

Junmyeon leans back, narrows his eyes like a gif of Ryan Gosling. 

“Your sense of fashion is oversized meets Tommy Bahama,” Junmyeon criticizes. 

“Tell Sandhya to stop putting words in your mouth.” 

“When the girl is right,” Junmyeon says, eyes glazing over Chanyeol’s body, “she is right.” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, immediately goes back to his Notes app, typing away. 

“I’ll pick you up at the break of day,” Chanyeol says. “And we can stop for coffee first.” 

“Just like the first time,” Junmyeon says, and it’s so sickeningly sweet, Chanyeol feels his teeth aching. 

“Yep, just like the first time.” He leans down, presses a short, chaste kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. “All right, what else?” 

“We’ll we’ve got to visit the comic shop,” Junmyeon says, “since we never got the chance the first time around.” 

“No, oh my god,” Chanyeol laughs. “It’s so fucking dorky. I can’t bring you there.” 

“And why not?” Junmyeon folds his arms, bitchy. “I can be dorky.” 

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” 

“Excuse me,” Junmyeon says, and he turns away from Chanyeol, looking back at him angrily. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Giving you the cold shoulder,” Junmyeon sniffs. “Is it working? How cold does my shoulder appear to be?” 

Chanyeol massages gently at Junmyeon’s shoulder until he moans sweetly, turning around with a closed-mouth smile. 

“Oh, ice cold,” Chanyeol smiles.  
  


♆

Days whittle away like wood from a block, and as the summer comes to a close, the town going sleepy and quiet once more, Chanyeol starts to worry.

He stands at the threshold of his little home, and he scans his eyes over everything like he’s looking at it for the first time, trying to put himself inside Junmyeon’s head and see through his eyes.

It is a mess, of course, so Chanyeol cleans furiously in the evenings. He gets a big bucket of soapy water and scrubs the floor with a rag in his hand like Mrs. Huang told him to. 

“If you’re not cleaning the floor on your hands and knees, it isn’t a clean floor,” she tutted, so Chanyeol takes her advice, puts a headband on, and listens to music as he works. He dusts the tops of his shadow boxes, rearranges all his stuff so that it looks nice and neat, gives everything as thorough a wash as he can manage, especially his bedding. 

Imagining his Junmyeon lying in his bed is a terrible thought, so he busies himself with the rest of the preparations, making sure that everything is in place. When it’s all finished, he takes a moment to feel proud of himself before realizing that all there is left now is to wait.  
  


♆

There is a funny sort of tension that clouds them in the last few weeks before the Eve. Chanyeol can’t really put his finger on it, can’t seem to explain it, but there is something off. Something strained. Junmyeon doesn’t talk to him with the normal sort of casualness. Everything seems stilted. Everything seems too thought-out. Too planned.

“Do you regret making all the plans? Talking about the prophecy?” Chanyeol asks, and he swishes his hand through the ice cold water as he lies across the rock. “Does it feel like... I dunno, like we have to live up to something now?” 

Junmyeon sighs, flips in the water, and Chanyeol watches his body move, the twisting of muscle and bone, skin and scale. 

“Sometimes,” Junmyeon says. “I just worry.” 

“Worry about what?” 

“What happens after,” Junmyeon says, and he doesn’t meet Chanyeol’s eyes when he looks at him. 

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol asks. “After? After the Eve?” 

It is very quiet when Junmyeon confides in him, whispered like it’s too scary to say too loud. 

“What happens if it’s not us?” Junmyeon says. “What happens if nothing happens?” 

“Something will happen.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

His eyes flick up, green, green, green, and Chanyeol loves him so much that he doesn’t know how it would end any other way. The mystical and magical word broken in half, Junmyeon free to do as he pleases whenever he pleases. Their lives together... it could be something special. It could be easy. 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol confesses. “I just am. Whenever I look at you, it feels right.” 

Junmyeon smiles, and there is a certain sadness to it, but Chanyeol kisses him softly when he rises up to meet him, and after that, all the sadness has gone and disappeared.  
  


♆

The night before the Eve, Chanyeol watches the clock move, watches the seconds slip by. His mind won’t quiet, won’t let him rest. He feels like he’s waiting for a school trip, for a holiday, all of the minutes that he used to lie awake at night waiting for the calendar to flip to November 27th all wrapped up into one singular moment. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and he ends up showering twice, so late at night that Mrs. Huang comes downstairs with a very large bat in her hands.

“W-What are you doing?” Chanyeol whispers. 

“Thought you were trying to rob me,” she whispers back before shooing him out the backdoor. “Go back to bed.” 

Chanyeol goes back, sets up his electric kettle, and he makes himself a cup of tea to pass the time. It’s stupid, of course, being so excited when they spend practically every day together. But it’s different. It’s special. 

He walks to the beach early that morning, way before he knows he has to be there. He stands there, jittering on the shore, waiting for Junmyeon’s arrival like he’s waiting for someone to walk away from the baggage claim with their arms thrown wide.

When Junmyeon walks out of the water, carefully wrapped in cloth, Chanyeol is struck dumb by the sight of him. He walks softly, like he’s been practicing, and Chanyeol’s heart clenches painfully in his chest when he starts to laugh, overwhelmed by him, head so inundated with words of love that he might not ever be able to think of anything else. 

He walks to meet him, closing the distance, and they pull each other into an embrace as soon as they can reach. Chanyeol holds him close, holds him up, thinks _Let me hold you after all those times you held me._

Junmyeon rests his head on Chanyeol’s chest, and Chanyeol looks up to a bleeding fall sky, red, orange, yellow, and pink. _Can you hear my heart beat? Will you let me feel yours?_

They don’t say anything, not at first, because what is left to say between them? They have waited a very long time for this day, and now that it is finally upon them, they deserve to enjoy it however they want. 

Junmyeon is slow to pull back from Chanyeol’s embrace, staring up with those same seaweed eyes, the same furious mop of dark hair, the same look of gilded lilies, of innocence and intrigue. 

“Hi,” Junmyeon whispers, and his hair falls into his eyes, the water dripping down his face. 

Chanyeol brushes the hair away, and Junmyeon brings himself close, steals the _hello_ from his mouth, and the _goodbye_ too.  
  


♆

Junmyeon stops by the public bathrooms, grabbing the bag from Chanyeol’s hand, a delighted look on his face.

“Back in a second,” he promises, and he passes through the door, swinging shut behind him. 

Chanyeol waits as patiently as he can manage, and when Junmyeon pops back out like some kind of model straight off the page of one of the magazines he studied so closely, Chanyeol can barely breathe, can barely formulate a thought. He looks cool, looks effortless, looks _incredible_. His jeans are tight, fitting him like a glove, and Chanyeol stares at his lower half a bit too much, a bit too eager. He wears a pair of rosy sunglasses up on his head, hair ruffled, but still wet. 

“How does it look?” Junmyeon asks, and he tugs uncomfortably at his graphic t-shirt, tucked in at one side of his waist. “Do I look foolish? I feel foolish.” 

“No,” Chanyeol says, only just managing to shake himself out of the daze long enough to step forward, pulling Junmyeon into his arms. “No, you look amazing. You always look amazing.” 

Junmyeon scowls at him. “You are my boyfriend. You have to say such things.” He stands up on his tiptoes, and he presses his lips to Chanyeol’s, looking every bit the part. Chanyeol’s boyfriend. Chanyeol’s boyfriend he can bring _anywhere_. 

“I don’t have to,” Chanyeol argues. “Only because I like you.” 

“Like me? What about _love me_?” 

He stares up at Chanyeol with wide, expectant eyes, and Chanyeol is head over heels, heels over head, over and over again, stomach flipping wildly. 

“Like you and love you.” 

Junmyeon hums happily, wiggling back into Chanyeol’s arms. 

They stand there, and they watch the sun come up over the shore, awash in the pink light of morning, and it is quiet save for the birds, save for the magic that sings out along the whistling rocks. 

“This is perfect,” Junmyeon whispers. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol agrees. “Pretty perfect.”  
  


♆

Their first stop for the morning is Isaac’s, and Junmyeon’s hair is nearly dry by the time they get there. It’s been so long since Chanyeol’s seen him with dry hair, and he ruffles it between his fingertips as they walk, playing with the salt-waved tresses.

The bell jingles as they walk in, hand in hand, and Junmyeon immediately hurries over to their table, and it touches Chanyeol that he remembers. 

“Oh, this is so wonderful,” Junmyeon says, brows knitting together as he frowns. “I’m so happy, Chanyeol.” 

The frown on his face deepens, and Chanyeol laughs, brushing a finger along his bottom lip. 

“You don’t _look_ happy.” 

“I’m _very_ happy,” Junmyeon says. “How dare you?” 

“How dare I?” Chanyeol says, and he gets too close, the tips of their noses brushing, dotting a kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. “How dare _you_?” 

“How dare I what?” 

“Be so cute,” Chanyeol says. “Take responsibility for your actions.” 

Junmyeon winds his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, and when they kiss again, it is deeper, more passionate, more _everything_. Chanyeol breathes out, breathes Junmyeon in, and even then, it’s not enough. He wants more. Needs more. How is he supposed to wait for the night like they planned? It’s not even mid-morning yet. 

“Are you two lovebirds planning on drinking any coffee, or are you just going to scare away potential customers?” 

Chanyeol squeaks out a sound of surprise, lost in his own little world, but Junmyeon steps back, smoothing his clothes down before striding over confidently, offering Isaac his hand. 

“My friend, it has been so long,” Junmyeon says. 

“It has been,” Isaac says, and he scolds Junmyeon happily. “You should come by more often, all right?” 

“I will try my best, sir,” Junmyeon says. “Have you been taking care of Chanyeol for me?” 

“Oh, you know Chanyeol,” Isaac says, and he turns to Chanyeol, smiling. “Takes care of himself mostly, but I do what I can.” 

“I’m not a fern,” Chanyeol says. “I can hear you.” 

“Yes, we’re aware,” Junmyeon says before turning back to Isaac with a grin. “Two coffees, one black and one with cream.” 

“For here or to go?”

“To go, please,” Junmyeon says. 

“Coming right up,” Isaac says, and he quickly starts to fiddle around with the coffee pots. “Anything to eat?” 

“We are going to the doughnut shop for breakfast,” Junmyeon says, “so I’m afraid it will just be the coffee this morning.”

“Well, it’s on the house,” Isaac says, and he slides the takeout coffee cups across to them with a smile. “Come back soon, okay? Even if I have to turn the hose on you two, I like seeing this one—” and he points to Chanyeol, “happy.” 

Junmyeon nods. 

“As do I.”  
  


♆

Sandhya is waiting for them when they arrive, and she practically sweeps Junmyeon off his feet as they embrace. Chanyeol rolls his eyes, holds both their coffees.

“Oh my _god_,” she enthuses, staring down at his legs. “You literally look _amazing_.” 

“Oh, please,” Junmyeon blushes. 

“No, I’m dead serious.” She spins him around in a little circle, staring at his outfit, and Chanyeol stares too, still sort of in awe that he managed to ensnare this perfect creature, a creature so perfect it shouldn’t even be possible to be so perfect. “God, _look at you!_” 

“Okay, okay,” Chanyeol says. “He’s not a statue. He needs food.” 

“Shut up, he’s my best friend, and I love him,” Sandhya says, and she hugs Junmyeon close. “The clothes are _perfect_.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

“If Chanyeol was dead, then I think you could get a 90 year old sugar daddy and potentially steal all his money from his kids once he kicks the bucket.” 

“I’m not dead! I’m right here!” Chanyeol screeches. “Can we just have some doughnuts?” 

“Okay, fine, let me get some doughnuts, and then we can talk some more.” 

She tosses her hair over her shoulder as she hurries off to fetch the three of them breakfast, and Junmyeon practically glows as they settle at a table, immediately grabbing for Chanyeol’s hands. 

Chanyeol breathes in sharply as they lace their fingers together, as Junmyeon looks deeply into Chanyeol’s eyes. 

“Thank you for this,” Junmyeon whispers. 

“For what?” Chanyeol asks. “This is... this is just the start of it all.” He strokes his thumb against Junmyeon’s, watches the smile on his face spread like the petals of a flower under the sun. “This is only the beginning. This is what it’ll always be like.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yeah, I promise.”  
  


♆

They lick powdered sugar off their fingertips, and after breakfast, they play music for a little while, sitting in a circle, Chanyeol and Sandhya with their guitars, Junmyeon humming along as they strum. Chanyeol wonders if it’s too lowkey, too simple, but when he looks at the way Junmyeon smiles, the way he throws his head back and laughs whenever Sandhya messes up a G9, squawking that it was just a fluke, that she knows what she’s doing.

“Okay,” she says, setting her guitar down, “my fingers fucking hurt. Go do something else.” 

“I wasn’t aware that my welcome was going to expire,” Junmyeon says sniffing, but Sandhya grabs him, whispers in his ear, and Junmyeon’s eyes go wide. “Oh.” 

“What did you say to him?” Chanyeol asks before turning to Junmyeon. “What did she say to you? Whatever it is, don’t listen to her. She’s evil.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sandhya says cheerfully. “Have a good day, boys. Come back when the curse is broken!” 

“Ugh,” Chanyeol says, and he flips her off, which she returns just as easily. “I don’t like you.” 

“You love me, and I bet that just absolutely kills you inside.” She waves. “See you later! Good luck!” 

Junmyeon waves back with one hand as Chanyeol drags him out by the other, pulling him out to the sidewalk, the shop left behind. 

“Oh, I just love her,” Junmyeon sighs, their tied hands swinging between them as they walk. 

“Yeah, me too,” Chanyeol says. 

They walk down familiar streets, Chanyeol silently directing Junmyeon, and they crunch through leaves on the streets, listening to the sounds of the chilly November around them. Junmyeon looks around at the sky, looks like he’s finally free, and Chanyeol thinks _God, I’m so happy that he looks that way around me._  
  


♆

They aren’t very complicated, the two of them. The itinerary, though it was much deliberated, is a simple one. Comic book shop, lunch at the taco truck, a visit to the lighthouse, a walk around the park, dinner at the Huangs, and then... well, Chanyeol feels weird even thinking it. But they’ve discussed everything in depth so that they each knew what to expect, so that there was no question about it. Chanyeol feels most comfortable when they can talk that way. Unafraid.

The doorbell to the comic book shop makes the _whoom_ sound like a lightsaber from _Star Wars_, and Junmyeon whips around, confused and shocked by the noise. 

“What was that?” 

“Oh, uh, I guess I have to put that on the list,” Chanyeol says. “It’s dorky shit, but I love it.” 

“Ah, but I do love all the dorky things,” Junmyeon says, and he hugs Chanyeol close, smiling up at him. “After all, you watched all of the Meg Ryan movies with me.” 

“I like those movies too, though.” 

“Perhaps I will like your dorky movies!” Junmyeon says. “You never know until you try, isn’t that right?” 

“Yeah, that’s true.” 

Junmyeon looks at him smugly, and Chanyeol has to kiss him, has to do _something_ so he doesn’t say _Screw the plans, let’s go back to my place now._

They look through the shop for a while, curling up in the beanbag chairs with their purchases, and Junmyeon occasionally knocks his hand against Chanyeol’s, staring at him hotly. Chanyeol forces himself to look away, but as he looks down at his _Absolute Carnage_, he can see the way the tops of his cheeks go red.  
  


♆

Chanyeol watches Junmyeon eat, watches his throat work, and it shouldn’t be so sexy, shouldn’t make Chanyeol want to follow the movement with his fingertips or even his mouth. Maybe they’ve just been talking about it for too long. Maybe he’s been dreaming about it too much. Now it’s all he can think about. Now, when it’s right in front of him, it’s all he can taste.

“Chanyeol.” 

Junmyeon is grinning at him, fingers dancing over the dripping sweat of condensation on his bottle of Jarritos, and Chanyeol blinks several times before he can focus. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re staring at me,” he whispers. 

Chanyeol looks at the tabletop a little sheepishly, but it is then that he feels Junmyeon’s foot against his, insistent and nudging. Chanyeol looks up, meets Junmyeon’s gaze quickly before he looks away, suddenly very shy. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says. 

Tonight, they’ll know each other for the first time in one of the most intimate ways, and so very much could go wrong. It’s easy to be nervous. It comes naturally to him. 

“I like it,” Junmyeon whispers. “I like when you stare.” 

Chanyeol reaches out, touches Junmyeon’s hand, and the sudden shock of cold is immediately calming. There is nothing to worry about. He is Junmyeon’s, and Junmyeon is his. And that’s all they really need. The rest is window dressing.  
  


♆

The lighthouse towers above them as they approach, Junmyeon nervous and Chanyeol confident. It’s closed during the off season, but Chanyeol knows they don’t keep it locked up even when they should, so they slip inside, surrounded by ghostly quiet.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Junmyeon asks, and he wraps himself around Chanyeol’s arm. “I-If you want, we can do something else.” 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Chanyeol says, and he holds Junmyeon by the hand as he pulls him towards the stairs. “Are you okay with the climb? I know with your—”

“My legs are _fine_,” Junmyeon grouses. 

“Okay, okay, I was just trying to be considerate.” He starts to climb, the stairs creaking under his weight, and then he looks back, sees Junmyeon hesitant, standing below the first step. “Are you coming?” 

“Eventually,” Junmyeon says. 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes with a gentle smile, and he hops back down the few steps he managed to climb, bracing himself on the railing. 

“You want me to carry you?” he offers. 

“_No_, I can do it on my own,” Junmyeon says staunchly before he looks down at the step, looking up at the apex of the lighthouse warily. “I’ve never done something like this before. And it’s... well, it’s a new experience for me.” 

“It’s not that high,” Chanyeol says. “I promise, it’ll be fine.” 

“How could you promise such a thing?” 

“‘Cause I got you,” Chanyeol says, and he bumps his fist against Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Come on, you gonna miss this view?” 

He turns, sprints back up the stairs as Junmyeon starts to make distressed noises. 

“Chanyeol,” he whines. “Don’t leave me behind.” 

“I won’t,” he says, stopping just before turning the corner. “I’ll wait for you right here. As long as it takes.” 

“What if... what if I’d rather do something else?” Junmyeon asks nervously. 

“Do you want to do something else?” 

“No.” 

“Then, let’s do this,” Chanyeol says. “Let’s do it together.” 

Junmyeon hardens the line of his mouth, and he takes the first couple of steps, meets Chanyeol as the spiral staircase starts to twist up, and he kisses Chanyeol firmly before passing him by, leading the way. 

They pause at every landing, and Junmyeon hugs Chanyeol close like he needs something to hold onto as they get further and further from the ground. 

“Are you all right?” Chanyeol asks once they’re up so high that there is a window, Junmyeon looking out it like he’s going to be sick. “It’s okay if you wanna go back down. I don’t mind. I’d rather—” 

“No, I’m fine,” Junmyeon says, and there is a stubbornness in his jaw that makes Chanyeol feel a swelling of pride in his chest. “Come, we’re nearly at the top, aren’t we?” 

“Nearly,” Chanyeol says, and they hold hands the rest of the way, going slowly as they climb so they don’t trip. 

Chanyeol has climbed this particular lighthouse before on many occasions, but it’s never felt so special, never felt so important that they complete it, and he supposes that the importance, the specialness rests on Junmyeon’s existence. He makes everything different, makes everything more important, makes everything more special. 

They are a bit winded by the end, and Junmyeon stands at the top of the lighthouse, walking out onto the narrow balcony, the wind in his hair. He lowers the sunglasses onto his face, turns back to Chanyeol with a smile. 

“We did it,” he says, his shoulders slumping as Chanyeol watches relief pour over him. “It’s not so scary after all.” 

Chanyeol crosses to him, kisses him softly, tries to put everything into it. 

“No, not so scary,” Chanyeol says. “Not when we’re together, at least.” 

Junmyeon’s gaze melts as he winds his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, kissing Chanyeol, giving back just as much as Chanyeol gave him.

“Okay,” Junmyeon whispers, the words slipping out against Chanyeol’s lips. “Let’s get down from here. This sucks.” 

They laugh the whole way down, a beacon of sorts.  
  


♆

They walk back towards home, and Chanyeol immediately starts to feel the nerves bubble up in his stomach again.

“Don’t worry,” Junmyeon says, and he squeezes Chanyeol’s hand in his. “Whatever is there to worry about?” 

“Discussions of marriage and adoption and school districts,” Chanyeol says. 

“Marriage?” Junmyeon asks, tilting his head to the side. “Would you like to get married, Chanyeol?” 

“Oh my god, I am not having this conversation right now,” Chanyeol says, and he pulls a giggling Junmyeon forward, up the stairs and through the front door.

Immediately, they are accosted by the Huangs, smiling at them like they’re in a psych ward. 

“Uh, hi,” Chanyeol says. 

Junmyeon bows, and Chanyeol is going to strangle him. 

“It is an honor to be welcomed into your home once more, Mr. and Mrs. Huang,” Junmyeon says, and he smiles at them charmingly, like the perfect son-in-law. “Thank you so much for the invitation.” 

“Oh, you’re always welcome,” Mrs. Huang smiles, and then she frowns at Chanyeol, looking him up and down. “What are you wearing?” 

“Uh, clothes.” 

“Go change,” she says, waving a hand at him before taking Junmyeon by the shoulder and dragging him towards the dining room. “I’ll take good care of him.” 

Chanyeol stands there next to Mr. Huang, watching, distressed. 

“Get out now,” Mr. Huang whispers, “before it’s too late.” 

Mrs. Huang looks back over her shoulder menacingly, and Mr. Huang laughs, holding his belly as he follows closely behind them. 

Chanyeol considers simply walking into the dining room, telling her that what he’s wearing is fine, but he doesn’t imagine it going over very well, so he hurriedly goes out the back door, slips into his nice khakis and a sweater, combing his hair with his hands, and he walks back in, hears the three of them laughing in the dining room. 

Already, there is a huge spread of food on the table, delicate dishes on the finest china, a rainbow, a veritable smorgasbord before them. How long was he gone? Certainly not _this_ long.

Junmyeon has a near empty glass of wine in front of him, and Chanyeol nearly swallows his tongue as Junmyeon drains the rest of the glass. 

“Hey,” he says, “what—are you drinking juice?” 

“No, _shǎ guā_,” Mrs. Huang says, and she finishes pouring the rest of the glasses, a smile on her face. “Wine. To celebrate.” 

“He doesn’t like wine.” 

“I like this wine.” Chanyeol looks at him funny. “It tastes the way flowers smell,” Junmyeon says happily. 

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol says, and he takes his seat beside Junmyeon, pointing an accusatory finger between Mr. and Mrs. Huang. “If he gets drunk, it’s on you.” 

“Oh, he’ll be _fine_,” Mrs. Huang says, pushing the food towards them both. “Eat, eat. There’s plenty. And I want to hear a good excuse why we haven’t seen you in so long!”  
  


♆

Dinner is dreadfully slow, but Junmyeon seems to enjoy himself, listening eagerly to the stories that the Huangs share, not minding one little bit when they fill up his plate a second time, asking him questions about his parents, his schooling, his job. He answers as best he can manage, making up little white lies that tend towards truths.

Maybe, Chanyeol thinks, once the curse is broken, maybe he'll be able to tell them. Maybe they'll be able to live normally. Maybe they'll be able to live in the light. Maybe they could get a place together someday, something close to the beach. They could raise kids close to the water.  
They could... they really could have it all. And Chanyeol's never cared much for all that before, but now that Junmyeon is in his life, he finds that he actually cares quite a lot about it, almost like his heart was just waiting for the right person to come along. 

They walk out the back door, and the light falls away from the world, a tense, shivering feeling knotting its way through his stomach as he opens the door, lets Junmyeon inside for the first time.

When he walks in, the way he looks around is so interesting. Chanyeol has shown him pictures obviously, but from Junmyeon’s face alone, Chanyeol can tell that there is nothing like the real thing. He stares at everything, doesn't let a single thing escape his notice. Chanyeol watches him look, lets him look his fill even though it feels like Junmyeon is looking at his deepest, darkest secrets as he looks in every corner.

“The... the pictures,” Junmyeon says, and the slope of his neck calls to Chanyeol, calls for a touch. “They’re—”

“Yours,” Chanyeol says, and he winds his arms around Junmyeon’s waist, kissing the side of his neck until he moans, purring it out into the room. “I just wanted... I just wanted to make you feel at home, I guess.” 

Junmyeon spins, threads his arms around Chanyeol’s arms. The look in his eyes is hopeful, timid but sure, and he stands on his tiptoes to kiss Chanyeol sweetly, right in the middle of Chanyeol’s room, right there where he’s imagined them over and over again. _Finally_, he thinks. _Finally._

The kiss goes hungry, blisteringly hot, and Chanyeol doesn’t know how Junmyeon does it, doesn’t know how he manages to make something so simple so erotic, something that makes Chanyeol shiver with need. He slips his leg between Junmyeon’s, feels their bodies meet in a beautiful, tight line, and they both swallow sounds. Eager, desperate sounds. 

He doesn’t know how they aren’t immediately falling over themselves, twisted up limbs trying to escape from their clothing, but he takes it as it comes, the way they arch and push into each other just as delicious as anything else he could possibly imagine. They don’t have forever, but they have tonight. And that will be more than enough, Chanyeol thinks. 

Chanyeol holds Junmyeon by the hips as they absently grind against each other, each noise that Junmyeon makes better than the last. He works for them, treasures each. He touches Junmyeon, hands gliding over the fabric as he moves up, kneading gently into the strong muscles of his back, down his obliques, down to the small of his back. 

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon whines, and he begins to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to Chanyeol’s neck, licking and sucking before whispering in his ear. “Touch me. Please.” 

He needs no more of an invitation than that, and he dips his hands underneath Junmyeon’s jacket, touching his warm skin. It is such a novelty, the warmth of his blood, and Chanyeol leeches off of it, feels himself go hotter and hotter with each second spent in Junmyeon’s sun. 

Slowly, he pushes the jacket from Junmyeon’s shoulders, lets it fall to the floor. They step around it, their bodies pressed together, connected. Junmyeon is just as eager to push Chanyeol’s jacket to the floor, moaning when he runs his hands over Chanyeol’s shoulders, down his back. 

Junmyeon pushes back with him, mouth red and eyes sparkling. They stare at each other, a silent war of who wants it more, and then suddenly, Junmyeon strips himself of his shirt in one fluid movement before shucking himself of his pants and his underwear without much announcement, sitting down on the edge of Chanyeol’s queen like he’s daring Chanyeol to move. 

Naked skin pours out over his bed, and Chanyeol watches in awe as Junmyeon’s thin legs twist over one another, as he strokes a hand down his chest, staring at Chanyeol. 

“Aren’t you going to touch me?” Junmyeon asks. “Aren’t you going to come feel me? The way you said you would?” 

Chanyeol’s mouth waters as he looks at him, watches the hand skim down Junmyeon’s breastbone, down his abdomen to stroke his cock to hardness. His head falls back against the pillow, against _Chanyeol’s_ pillow, and he lies in Chanyeol’s bed as he touches himself, finds pleasure, gives pleasure in return. Chanyeol palms the front of his pants as he watches Junmyeon touch himself, as he watches Junmyeon start to shake and moan. 

“Please,” Junmyeon says. “Please, I want you to. I wanna know what it’s like to have your hands on me.” 

He can’t ignore that, not something so sweet, so perfect. He kneels on the bed, and Junmyeon swiftly moves so that Chanyeol is settled between his legs.

He cannot resist the look of him, eyes glued to each square inch, each little bit more beautiful than the bit before it. Chanyeol touches him carefully, a soft hand against his knee, and he wants to lay his body down on top of him, wants to cover Junmyeon and cage him in, but they said they would take it slow. Chanyeol goes slow, scraping a soft nail against Junmyeon's skin until he hisses. 

"More," he begs. "Touch me." 

Chanyeol is eager, wanton, his head dizzy with thick arousal, but he is not stupid, not so desperate that he would ruin it by moving too fast. He lies beside Junmyeon, and he pets a hand along his chest, watching as Junmyeon's rib cage pushes out with a sustained breath almost like he's trying to push back into the touch. 

Junmyeon gasps like he's never had something so good, and the feeling is infectious, drips through Chanyeol's blood like an IV. When Junmyeon turns to look at him, the look in his eyes is like something Chanyeol has never seen before, wild and needy, so fucking erotic that Chanyeol only knows how to crush him into a kiss, Junmyeon's naked body pressed against his clothes. 

Junmyeon rolls on top of him, hands at his shoulders, and he kisses Chanyeol so hard that Chanyeol thinks his lips might bruise, like he might taste blood on his tongue. But it is so sweet, so hopelessly in love, and Chanyeol can only beg for more. 

"Can I take off your clothes?" Junmyeon whispers, the sound so loud in Chanyeol's ears. "I want to touch you too." 

Chanyeol wants to open his mouth to argue, say _What about taking things slow?_, but when he kisses Junmyeon, starts to pull frantically at his sweater, he says _Yes, yes, yes_. 

It's fervent, passionate, red hot and scorching as Junmyeon takes off Chanyeol's clothes piece by piece. Chanyeol moans as Junmyeon's fingers brush along his skin, and once he's down to nearly nothing, it becomes real. Real. God, it's so real.

Junmyeon works Chanyeol's underwear down his legs, tosses them off to the side with the rest of their clothes, and he spreads Chanyeol's legs with sure hands. 

"W-Wait," Chanyeol says, but Junmyeon starts to kiss his way down Chanyeol's body anyway, just as assured as always. "Junmyeon, wait." 

He raises his head slowly, mouth by Chanyeol's navel as he licks idly at Chanyeol's skin. 

"Why?" Junmyeon asks slowly, and then, he kisses Chanyeol again, open-mouthed and wet. "Why should I wait? When we've been waiting for so long?" 

Chanyeol knits his eyebrows together, stares down at the love of his fucking life, temptation itself, and he quickly changes their position, even as Junmyeon whimpers and whines. He puts Junmyeon on his back, starts to suck a kiss to the hollow of his throat as he grinds his body against Junmyeon's, each moan more needy than the last. 

"Please," Junmyeon groans. "I wanted to taste you." 

But Chanyeol wants it more, _knows_ he wants it more, because it is him who threads their hands together, him who kisses down Junmyeon's body, licks idly at the head of his cock as he thrusts his hips like he can't control it. 

Chanyeol holds him by the hips as he nips at the thin skin of his pelvis, whispering the words along his hip bones. 

"Do you want it?" Chanyeol asks. 

"Yes," Junmyeon hisses. "Please, yes." 

"Are you sure?" 

Junmyeon unlaces their hands, winds them both through Chanyeol's hair with a moan, scratching and petting at his scalp. 

"I've never been more sure of anything," he says. "Please, I... I swear, I'll do anything. I've... I've never felt like this before." 

The words put a raging fire in Chanyeol's stomach, and he doesn't put it off any longer, sucking the head of Junmyeon's cock into his mouth, laving his tongue against it, listening for the answering whine. 

Junmyeon tightens his hands in Chanyeol’s hair like he needs something to hang onto, and Chanyeol takes him a bit deeper, wet sounds echoing in the room. He works to a little aimless rhythm, answering Junmyeon’s moans with humming moans of his own, but after a while, when Junmyeon starts to make high-pitched keening sounds from the back of his throat, Chanyeol stops playing around. 

He relaxes his jaw, relaxes the muscles in his throat as best he can manage, lets himself go lazy, but hyper-focused as he swallows, moving farther and farther down Junmyeon's cock until Chanyeol's nose is pressed up against his body. 

Junmyeon groans brokenly, a hand going to Chanyeol's shoulder and tapping him wildly. Chanyeol holds him there, holds him in his throat for as long as he can manage before he pulls back slowly, swallowing thickly as he stares up at Junmyeon. 

“H-How do you know you’re about to come?” Junmyeon asks, and his eyes are wet with tears. “What does it feel like?” 

“You’ll know. You’ll feel it all over,” Chanyeol says, and he strokes Junmyeon’s cock in his hand, the noise lewd, but so fucking hot. “It’s like, I dunno, you get all shivery like you’re about to fall apart. Every part of you gets hot, and there’s just like, an itch that you’re so close to scratching that if you could just—”

“Chanyeol, please, I—” 

Junmyeon squeezes his eyes shut as Chanyeol speaks, as Chanyeol works his fist over the head of Junmyeon’s cock, using his fingers to play with him, his work-rough palm squeezing tight over the length of his shaft before withdrawing, doing it all over again. Junmyeon wears a look of worried tension, makes small wounded noises. Chanyeol stares at him like the work of art that he is. 

“What?” Chanyeol asks. “Are you close? Do you want me to stop?” 

“No... I don’t—ah, Chanyeol, I’m... ,” and then he moans, a shattered sound, his whole body pulled taut, the muscles shadowed as he flexes and comes, slick over his hard stomach, biting his lip so hard Chanyeol thinks he might break skin. “Chanyeol.” 

He breathes out, his whole body going limp as the arch of his back falls back to the bed, his eyes heavy, his forehead wet with sweat. He is shining, an iridescence to him that reminds Chanyeol intensely of the color of his tail, of the way he looks in the water. 

“Hi,” Chanyeol whispers, and he presses a kiss to his hip. “Was that okay?” 

“_Okay_,” Junmyeon breathes, and he looks up to Chanyeol’s ceiling. “I do understand now why humans are so fixated on this.” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, and he pets the pads of his fingers along Junmyeon’s skin as he settles next to him, “easy to get addicted to it.” He touches Junmyeon on the shoulder, feels the warmth. “But we can take a little break if you want.” 

Junmyeon looks at him with those sex sleepy eyes, and Chanyeol thinks _This is why people were made to dream, pictures like this._ He kisses Chanyeol lazily, and Chanyeol kisses him back with an eagerness that belies his words. 

“No,” Junmyeon says, and the words ghost over Chanyeol’s mouth. “No, I want to touch you now.” 

Chanyeol wipes him clean, hands Junmyeon the bottle, and he lays his body squarely on the bed, shutting his eyes. He feels more naked than he ever has in his entire life, absolutely gutted and raw, and when Junmyeon lays on top of him, kisses him softly, he feels covered. Feels safe. 

Chanyeol listens to Junmyeon’s whispered words of love, and he kisses down Chanyeol’s body once more, lets him do as he pleases as Chanyeol covers his face with his hands. 

But Junmyeon pulls Chanyeol’s hands to his sides. 

“I would look upon you,” Junmyeon whispers, and Chanyeol watches as Junmyeon’s lips trail idly over his cock, the sight better, more intense than anything Chanyeol’s ever seen before. “I want to look at your face as I touch you.” 

Chanyeol shuts his eyes tight, opens them to see stars surrounding them both. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol whispers, “yes, anything.” 

Junmyeon plays at Chanyeol’s hole, the touch slick and wet, his fingertips just skimming over the sensitive skin as Chanyeol’s body trembles with need. He’s been imagining it too much, been thinking about it too much, and now he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it when he finally gets it. 

“Relax,” Junmyeon says, and his free hand strokes down the length of Chanyeol’s thigh, trying to coax him gentle. “Just close your eyes and feel.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t know where he learned this, doesn’t want to know what sort of videos Sandhya may or may not have shown him, so he tries his level best to obey Junmyeon’s command, closing his eyes, trying to focus on the sensations. 

Junmyeon plays with him more gently than he’s ever had anyone touch him before, even himself. There’s always been a kind of callousness, a roughness, a directness that says _We have a destination. There’s an end to this road, and we need to reach it._ But Junmyeon—he is something different entirely. 

He presses insistently at Chanyeol, massaging him where he is most sensitive, where his nerves are alight with pleasure, but he never presses hard enough to push inside, never hard enough to slip in. Chanyeol moans brokenly when he thinks that Junmyeon is about to, his free hand absently touching Chanyeol’s cock, but Junmyeon only continues to stroke him, twisting him up into a knot and then watching as he lets Chanyeol unwind, everything spiralling out like threads of rope untwisting, unraveling under his skin, the tendrils of pleasure bright red and electric. 

It is a shock, how easily his finger slips in when he finally presses in, so shocking, in fact, that Chanyeol audibly gasps, his body already sucking Junmyeon in. 

“Did it hurt?” Junmyeon asks quickly, and he leans down, mouths at the head of Chanyeol’s cock as he pauses his touch. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m—God, it’s... it’s never been that easy,” Chanyeol says, overwhelmed with just how much pleasure he feels right from the beginning, wondering if maybe it was always supposed to be like this, wondering if maybe he was just supposed to be with Junmyeon. 

“I have to make sure you’re ready,” Junmyeon says, staring at Chanyeol’s body, talking like he’s reading from a textbook. “I have to take my time with you.” Chanyeol shakes out a laugh, and Junmyeon looks up with a look of shock on his face. “Did I say something silly?” 

“N-No. You’re just... I just love you a lot.” 

Junmyeon smiles, and his movement is slow, his finger inside Chanyeol shifting as he moves up, lays next to Chanyeol so that he can kiss him. It feels more powerful, the color of them more pigmented than ever before, and Chanyeol gasps as Junmyeon touches him carefully, like he’s molding Chanyeol to fit his shape, remember his shape. 

It is slow, torturous, and Chanyeol’s body twists and moves as Junmyeon slips another finger inside him. He licks into Chanyeol’s mouth, swallows his moans, kisses a mark to Chanyeol’s neck. Junmyeon sits up when he slips the third finger inside him, wrapping a fist around Chanyeol’s cock to milk him slowly. 

He can’t believe he is so undone by someone who had his sex education from a heterosexual and a fashion magazine, but Chanyeol is undone just the same, giggling stupidly as he gets more and more desperate. 

“Please,” Chanyeol begs with a smile, and he pulls at Junmyeon’s hair, “please, I’m ready, just—” 

“I did my research,” Junmyeon says. “I will not hurt you.” 

“You _won’t_,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon strokes him wickedly, his fist tight and wet, his fingers devastating inside Chanyeol’s body. “I’m not going to get any more prepared if you make me come.” 

“It may help you relax!” 

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve done this before. I’m ready. I know it.” 

“How can you be sure?” Junmyeon asks. “Are you one hundred percent certain that I won’t accidentally hurt you, resulting in an anal fiss—”

Chanyeol makes a noise of distress before pulling Junmyeon to him by the shoulders, kissing him blessedly silent. It is a little awkward, a little stupid, but there is something so right about it, about the spot of warm light pouring from his lamp, about Junmyeon’s diligence and the way Chanyeol can feel the love pumping like blood through his veins, about the song Chanyeol can hear in his head, the ones their hearts make. 

Their duet is an eternal one, a timeless one. It stretches beyond all else. _There’s only this,_ he thinks. _So simple. So easy._

When Junmyeon pulls back, he looks into Chanyeol’s eyes as he rolls the condom on like he’s done it a thousand times before, like it’s not the first time he’s ever done it. 

“Please don’t tell me you practiced,” Chanyeol says, and he crosses his wrists behind Junmyeon’s back, caging him in. 

Junmyeon’s breath glides over Chanyeol’s lips, and Chanyeol chases it, arches his neck so that he can take a kiss, another, another. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Junmyeon smiles, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes with a laugh. 

The pressure is slick, hard against him, and he breathes out, unsteady from all the neediness. He feels a little dizzy, a bit like he’s about to pass out from everything all at once. Junmyeon thrusts in slowly, the open of Chanyeol’s body easy and fluid, like this was meant to happen, like they were meant to wait for this moment, like everything stops just for the two of them. 

“I have never loved anyone,” Junmyeon says, “or anything,” and he kisses Chanyeol, sinking in, a deep welling of affection in Chanyeol’s heart when they are finally one, “as much as I love you.” 

Chanyeol makes an embarrassing noise that sounds like a squeak, and Junmyeon’s sea green eyes crinkle cutely as he presses another kiss to Chanyeol’s lips, chaste and pure. The moment is undiluted love, love in its truest form, and Chanyeol laps it up, drinks it down, lets it slip between his lips and down his throat. It burns like fire but soothes like cold water, and each second that passes, he finds something better. Something more wonderful. 

“Why are you crying?” Junmyeon asks, and he lays his body down flat onto Chanyeol’s, the weight comforting in that base and inexplicable way. He reaches up, the pad of his thumb caressing Chanyeol’s cheek. “Does it hurt? Should I—” 

“Don’t,” Chanyeol says, and he hurriedly pulls Junmyeon closer, his arms around his frame. “Don’t move.” 

“All right. I won’t.” 

Their bodies rest against one another’s, and Chanyeol can feel Junmyeon’s heart beating against his own. He shuts his eyes, feels another tear slip out, and he wonders if this is what it’s always supposed to feel like, why people write so many poems and songs about this. It doesn’t feel like sex, it doesn’t feel like something that could ever inspire shame. It feels pure, feels like light in his chest, so bright it might burst out and spill into the darkness. 

Chanyeol rocks his body slowly against Junmyeon’s, hums when Junmyeon breathes out sharply into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. 

“Does it feel good?” Chanyeol whispers, and he presses a kiss to the soft skin of Junmyeon’s neck, winds his legs around Junmyeon’s body, hooks his ankles together as he moves, slowly, gently. “Junmyeon?” 

“Y-Yes,” he moans, and he puts his arms around Chanyeol, huddles their bodies impossibly closer, the warmth building like a climbing fire. “Chanyeol, _yes_.” 

“I want you here forever,” Chanyeol confesses, and he can’t even find the good sense to feel stupid about it, only feels honest, ripped raw and tender. “I want this forever.” 

“You don’t understand,” Junmyeon tells him, breathing like he’s crying. “You can’t possibly understand how much you mean to me.” 

“I understand. I know.” 

They move against one another in a grinding, halting rhythm, unskilled, uncaring, and untethered. There isn’t any worry. There isn’t any fear or doubt. It’s just them. It’s always been just them. 

Junmyeon kisses him fiercely, and it feels like crashing waves, like a storm brewing on the coast, and Chanyeol prepares himself, squeezing his eyes shut as Junmyeon begins to push into him properly, his hips against Chanyeol’s each time they meet. Chanyeol moans, a bone-deep satisfaction thrumming through him at the feeling, and Junmyeon kisses the sound from him. 

He can’t think of anything pretty or clever, not when they are so close. All the words come out mangled and forgotten. He thinks only in sensations, in sounds, in colors and music. Red, black, gold, and the soft feeling of Junmyeon’s hair under his fingertips. The twinkling melodies of songs they’ve sung. The bright light of dawn. And their skin. Their skin. The sweat on their skin. 

Chanyeol can’t know how long they manage to last, how long they work against each other together, how long they kiss and make music and tremble and sigh. It is furious and beautiful, like melting light and the movement of water, the subtle rising of heat in the back of your throat. The sounds build, build, shaking foundations, and they are perfect, they are made new. Junmyeon kisses him hard when he shudders apart, Chanyeol takes him in his hands, holds him together, and when they come, it is together, as they do all things now, in this new beautiful world they’ve created together. 

They come back down to the world slowly, like falling stars, and Chanyeol wonders, staring into Junmyeon’s eyes, if that’s how the Mer came to be. Little falling stars dropping down into the pool of the ocean. 

“Sleep,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol just keeps his eyes open, staring into Junmyeon. “Close your eyes.” 

“I can’t,” Chanyeol whispers. “I don’t wanna fall asleep. Every minute I sleep is a minute I’m wasting.” He strokes his hand down Junmyeon’s face. “I don’t want to waste my time not looking at you. Touching you.” 

Junmyeon’s smile is sad, but he brushes his fingers down Chanyeol’s face, brushing against Chanyeol’s eyelids when they slip closed. 

“Rest, at least for a little while.” 

Chanyeol feels the sleep take him, little by little before it swallows him up, same as Junmyeon’s love.  
  


♆

They rest in each other’s arms for what feels like an eternity, and Chanyeol wishes he could stretch one night to that. To forever. Junmyeon is curled up behind him, and he’s sure that the size difference looks crazy, but he cuddles into Junmyeon’s arms, into the casualness, into the expected embrace. He can’t believe they’ve been together for so long, and they’ve only just begun. They have their lives ahead of them.

And he can’t wait. 

It is sudden when Junmyeon detaches himself from Chanyeol, the arm around his waist withdrawn. He feels the bed move, feels Junmyeon turn over, and Chanyeol supposes that it’s time that they switch posts. He smiles as he turns over, curving his body to mold around Junmyeon’s. He kisses the side of Junmyeon’s face, and he blinks, sure that he’s misread the look there. 

But sure enough, when he opens his eyes, Junmyeon looks… wiped clean. Nothing. Empty. 

“I should go,” Junmyeon says blankly. “I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean? What are you apologizing for?” Chanyeol asks, a hand on Junmyeon’s neck. “Huh? What happened?” 

Junmyeon has shut down so quickly, though, and Chanyeol doesn’t understand. Anxiety starts to rise in him, waves at high tide. He can’t parse it, not at all, and he wonders if maybe he said something wrong, if he did something to offend Junmyeon in the heat of the moment. He tries to recontextualize it all, tries to put himself in Junmyeon’s shoes. Was he scared? Did Chanyeol not make sure he was comfortable enough? 

“Hey,” he says, and he puts his hand on the curve at Junmyeon’s shoulder. “If I did something stupid or I said something stupid, I’m sorry. I’m stupid. I… I didn’t mean to do it, and I know that doesn’t really count for anything, but you know I love you, and—” 

“Stop,” Junmyeon says. “You’re not stupid, you… you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I am. I’m stupid all the time.” 

Chanyeol feels the great shift of breath from Junmyeon’s body, hears the whimper that escapes him. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol whispers softly. “Hey, what’s wrong? Seriously? Is it… is it something about the curse thing? Did we… I mean, did I do it wrong?” 

He gently pulls at Junmyeon’s shoulder until he falls back onto the bed, but when he does, he sees that Junmyeon’s eyes are filled with tears, filled right to the brink. 

“_What’s wrong?_” 

“I don’t think we were right for each other,” Junmyeon says, and the tears start to slip out. “The curse remains. My body calls for the sea.” 

Chanyeol’s heart shatters as he realizes what it means, how much it meant to Junmyeon, but— 

“So?” Chanyeol says. “So what?” 

“I have to go,” Junmyeon says, and the tears start to fall down the sides of his face and onto the pillowcase. “We have to—you can’t stay with me.” 

“What are you talking about?” He gets down right next to Junmyeon, presses kisses to his cheeks. “Baby, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that I won’t let you throw your life away on me,” Junmyeon says. “I won't let you do it.” 

“Throwing my _life_ away,” Chanyeol scoffs. “I’m not throwing my life away.” 

“You waited.” Junmyeon brushes the tears away from his eyes as they start to fall faster and faster, the croak in his voice getting worse and worse. “You waited a year for me. And now… and now what?” He sniffs, and Chanyeol kisses him on the cheek again. Junmyeon pushes him back, looks into his eyes. “Now what, Chanyeol? Is this how you live the rest of your life? Year to year? Just for one day with me? Will you wait another year? Another five? Ten?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says simply, because it is simple. It’s the simplest thing in the world. “I’ll wait forever if it means I get to know you.” 

Junmyeon shuts his eyes, mouth open on a silent sob, a look of pure agony on his face as he clutches his chest. He buries his fingernails into the skin of his pectoral like he’s trying to rip his own heart out, and when the nails come away from the skin, they leave angry red marks. 

“Stop,” Chanyeol says, hushing him, trying to hold him close. “Please, please, don’t cry. I love you. Junmyeon, I love you.” 

“No,” Junmyeon cries. “No, don’t say that.” 

“Why?” He kisses Junmyeon’s lips, tastes the ocean. He’s always loved that. “I love you. I love you so much, Junmyeon.” 

“Don’t. You shouldn’t.” 

Junmyeon hurries away from the bed, and he wraps a sheet around his body. Chanyeol does not hesitate, though; he too scrambles up from the bed, goes to Junmyeon, but Junmyeon holds him back, a hand at Chanyeol’s bare chest. 

“Don’t,” Junmyeon whimpers. “Please, it’s… it’s already too hard to let you go.” 

“Then _don’t_,” Chanyeol says softly. “Don’t let me go. You don’t have to.” 

“I _do_,” Junmyeon whines. “I do. I have to. Because we’re… we’re not meant for each other. You know now that we’re not.” 

“Just because we had sex and the curse didn’t break?” Chanyeol says. “That’s all it takes?” 

“N-No, it’s just that… I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you, and you’re…” 

“And I’m in love with you.” 

“And it doesn’t mean _anything_,” he weeps. “Don’t you see? It doesn’t _mean anything_.” 

He shouldn't get lost in the hurt of those words, but for a moment, it feels like the deepest, most endless ocean. "Junmyeon, I know you don’t mean it like that." He pets through Junmyeon's hair. "A-And it's okay. I... I know how hard it must have been, how hard it is. But it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter where you live. I'll always be right there next to you when I can manage it. I can't imagine my life without you. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to stay right there, by your side."

“No,” Junmyeon says, and he stomps his foot angrily. “No, I… I won’t let you do this.” 

“You can’t stop me.” 

“I can, and I will.” 

Chanyeol takes Junmyeon’s jaw in his hand, and Junmyeon looks deeply into his eyes when he guides the gaze there. 

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says softly. “Why fight this? Why do you want to fight me?” 

He crumples in the embrace, and Junmyeon crushes his face to Chanyeol’s chest, weeping. 

“_Because_.” 

“Because why?” 

“Because we aren’t the destined lovers,” Junmyeon says, and he stares into Chanyeol’s eyes, the tears dripping down like tributaries. “And if we’re not the destined lovers meant to break the curse, then what is the point of all this?” 

Chanyeol furrows his brow in confusion, thumbs running along the bone of Junmyeon’s jaw. 

“What’s the point?” Chanyeol asks, growing in frustration. “The point is that I love you. There doesn’t need to be a point other than that.” 

“That’s not enough,” Junmyeon says. “If we were… if we were meant to be together, then the curse would have broken. If we were fated, if we were destined—” 

“Then what? Then we can be together?” He steps back. “But because we aren’t, then we can’t?” 

“Chanyeol,” he whimpers, hands coming up to cup Chanyeol’s face. “Chanyeol, I have never wanted anything more than I want you.” 

Chanyeol holds Junmyeon’s hands to his face, closes his eyes. He finds it easier to speak with his eyes closed. The tears feel contagious. 

“Then let yourself have me,” he whispers. “Take me, and… and who cares about the curse? Who cares about any of it?” Frightened, he opens his eyes. “Does it really matter if we live the rest of our lives like this? If we get to have each other…?” 

There is so much tumult in Junmyeon’s tempestuous eyes, the fury of the green sound. Waves and waves, Chanyeol can barely keep his head above it all. 

“I can’t.” 

Chanyeol shuts his eyes, feeling as utterly defeated as he ever has. 

“T-Then what happens?” he asks to the dark. 

He feels a kiss pressed to his face, and he feels the wetness of tears at his cheek. Chanyeol opens his eyes again, watches as Junmyeon gathers his clothes from the floor, dressing in silence. _Go_, his heart tells him. _Go and tell him something. Tell him anything. Tell him he is the most complicated, beautiful, terrible thing that’s ever happened to you, and in your stupid fucking life of pure simplicity, you have never wanted complicated more._

Junmyeon buttons up the shirt, and he looks at the pictures on Chanyeol’s walls, looks to the clock. 

“I should go,” Junmyeon says. “It’s almost time.” 

“C-Can I at least walk you home?” Chanyeol asks. 

“I think it would be best for both of us if we… if we maybe didn’t,” Junmyeon says. “I love you, Chanyeol. You know that I love you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. But this is for the best.” 

_If you really love me, then you wouldn’t leave._

His heart is petty, and it only hurts him worse the more he thinks about it. _Be an adult_, he tells himself. _Be mature._ But every single part of him wants to cling to Junmyeon’s ankles. 

“I love you too,” Chanyeol says. “And I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.” 

Junmyeon smiles sadly. 

“I wish I was good enough for you,” Junmyeon tells him. “And… I’m sorry. For everything.” 

He walks out, and Chanyeol watches him go, wishing he could think of anything to say, anything to do.  
  


♆

Chanyeol doesn't know what to do without the routine. Without Junmyeon in his life. Going back to the water seems insane, and for a while, he stays away from the beach entirely. It... he can't look at it most days.

Why was it such a foregone conclusion? Why did it have to be this way? Chanyeol's never been the kind of person to push conflict, much preferring to roll with the punches, go with the flow, but this... he doesn't know if he can accept this. More importantly, it doesn't feel like something he _should_ give up on. 

In the mornings, he walks through the streets, and he wonders what he should say. What he should do. But there's no one he can really talk to, no one he can share his plight with, so he meanders through his life with absolutely no direction, no story, no songs. 

The Huangs don’t ask much of him, seeming to sense what’s happened, and he feels even worse because of it. If even _they_ are pitying him, then surely, he is just about the most pitiful person in the fucking galaxy.  
  


♆

He wants to take time away from the beach, longer than just a few days, but that ends up screwing up his whole schedule. He doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. How did Junmyeon become so much of his world in just a year? Is that what love does to you? Does it blind you to everything else?

Chanyeol mopes around the garden, finishing up with his preparation for the installation of the fall and winter plants. It’s nearing the end of November, after all. He’s got to be prepared for the winter. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to feel cold without immediately thinking of Junmyeon’s hand in his, Junmyeon’s kiss, the way Junmyeon— 

“Chanyeol.” 

He looks up at the sharp call of his name, and Mrs. Huang is standing there, wrapped up in a big winter coat, a scarf around her neck. 

“Morning,” he says. “I’ll be done out here in a minute.” 

She narrows her eyes at him like she doesn’t trust him. 

She clomps down the stairs, big duck boots on her feet, and he stands up, dusts the soil from his bottom before he looks at her. There is something strange and sad in her eyes, and he looks away. 

“What’s wrong, hǔ zǐ?” Mrs. Huang asks, and she stands up on her tiptoes, stretching up to an obscene degree to rest the back of her hand along Chanyeol’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Are you ill? Do you need tea?” 

Chanyeol gives her a little laugh so that maybe she’ll stop worrying over him, but she repays it with a tight smile, one that says _Don’t play dumb with me, boy_.

“I’m okay,” Chanyeol says, and he tries to keep the pain out of his voice. “Just a little tired.” 

“You always say that now.” She jabs a finger at the meat of his shoulder. “_Just tired_. Aren’t you sleeping?” 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Promise.” 

She doesn’t believe him, that much is obvious, but she doesn’t question him any further, which Chanyeol is grateful for. 

It is a minute before she speaks to him again, just studying him in the meantime, but when she does, it is much gentler than before, as if she’s put on the kid gloves to deal with him. 

“Come,” she says, turning sharply. “Follow me.” 

Chanyeol is in no real position to ignore an order, so he goes. He follows. 

Mrs. Huang leads him inside, strips off her exoskeleton of nylon, down, and yarn, stepping out of her boots. Chanyeol makes to do the same, albeit with less articles of clothing, just his hat and his shoes off in the mud room. 

“Come on now,” she says, and she waves him into the kitchen, doesn’t say much more after that. 

He sits at the table silently as she prepares her ingredients, ham shank and bamboo shoots and ginger root. She treats everything lovingly, a natural elegance in her movements that speak to her knowledge. Chanyeol sits at the table quietly, watching her, and strangely, it does make him feel a bit better. Getting to focus on anything else besides the hole in his heart is a good feeling. 

“What are you making?” Chanyeol asks, genuinely curious. 

She turns back from the counter, looks over her shoulder as she slices through the bamboo shoots thinly. 

“A broken heart is just like any other illness,” Mrs. Huang says knowingly. “Needs soup.” Chanyeol laughs, and she smiles at him. “That’s better. I like that laugh. Not the fake kind.” 

Chanyeol didn’t know it was so obvious when he was laughing for the benefit of others, but maybe it’s only obvious to people who are close to him. Who know him well. 

“It’s called _Yan Du Xian_,” she says, turning back to her bamboo shoots. “You’ll like it.” 

Chanyeol does not interrupt where he could to tell her that’s a given, considering he likes most everything she makes, just sits there quietly, listening to the sounds of the knife against the cutting board. 

She sits at the table when all the prep work is done, the soup simmering on the stove, and she watches him. He looks at his hands, feels her eyes boring into him, and he doesn’t say anything. 

“Speak,” she says. “I know that you want to.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t know how to tell her that this isn’t like the rest of the problems, that he doesn’t actually _want_ to talk to her or anyone about this. 

“Chanyeol,” Mrs. Huang prods. “Speak.” 

“I... it’s complicated,” Chanyeol says after much stuttering. 

“Nothing’s so complicated.” She kicks him underneath the table. “Speak.” 

He huffs a breath, folds his hands across the table. “You remember Junmyeon?” He looks up cautiously, meets her eyes quickly before looking back down. “Uh, my...friend?” 

“The one you’ve been seeing,” she corrects. “My érxí. What happened between you? You break up?” Hearing it in such hard terms, in such unforgiving words, slices him across the belly, and he immediately feels tears leap to his eyes. “Oh, hǔ zǐ.” She leaps up from the table, throws her arms around his back. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry.” 

Chanyeol snorts, finding it hard to imagine Mrs. Huang crying at anything, let alone some of his boy problems. 

“I’m sorry.” He sniffs wetly. “It’s stupid.” 

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “Stupid things sometimes hurt worst.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “This hurts... really bad.” 

She smiles sadly at him, rubbing circles into his back, and he wishes he knew how to tell her what was wrong, wishes he knew how to make it right. 

“Sometimes things never stop hurting.” She looks off into the middle distance, and Chanyeol follows her gaze, watches the flame dance under the pot of soup. “Sometimes it’s good that things never stop hurting. Once things stop hurting, you lose something.” 

“I wish I could lose it,” Chanyeol admits, eyes going fuzzy as he stares at the fire. 

“No, you don’t,” she says. “Never say that.” 

“Okay. I won’t.” 

“Good.” She hugs him close. “I would be more worried if you weren’t having a hard time.” Mrs. Huang ruffles a hand through his hair until he sputters and pushes her hand away. “All the hurt means you are about to heal. Soon, hǔ zǐ. Soon.” 

Her smile is enough for the moment, and when he eats the soup, he feels something in his chest. The beginnings of something.  
  


♆

Chanyeol buys himself a bunch of comics on his wishlist, buys himself expensive skin care items, treats himself to as much greasy food and soda as he wants, indulges at pretty much every turn. He lies in bed, arm thrown across his stomach, and somehow, he still thinks he might be able to smell Junmyeon, smell the ocean in him. He closes his eyes, opens them again, sees the underwater pictures that Junmyeon took, the ones he got developed and hung on his walls.

Much as he’d like to take them down, start fresh, put everything behind him, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to. They’re too beautiful, and he can’t start turning away from beautiful things. Not even when they turn away from him. 

He blows through some of his savings, the stuff he put away and told himself he wouldn’t touch. He racks up some debt on his ULTA credit card. He gains fifteen pounds, and he feels sluggish, tired, worse than ever before. 

Chanyeol finds, over the course of the next several weeks, that indulging doesn’t help to fill the hole in his heart, only serves to make him feel emptier than when he began his attempts to patch it.  
  


♆

He goes to Sandhya, looking for some comfort and also for some doughnuts, but she looks back at him with critical eyes, with a stare that says _You will find no comfort here, no sugar either._

“What did you do to him?” she asks. “He won’t even speak to me anymore.” 

“Yeah, welcome to my life,” Chanyeol says, and he looks at the display case. “Can you just get me the carbohydrates?” 

“Oh, absolutely not.” She sits on her stool, folds her arms across her chest. “Embargo, bitch.” 

“This is totally irrational,” Chanyeol tells her. “I’m going through a break-up.” 

“And so, apparently, am I!” 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know! But you have to do _something_!” Sandhya screeches, looking to the back room before she starts to whisper. “You have to, like, make him understand!” 

“And how, exactly, would I go about doing that?” 

“I don’t know! That’s on you, lover boy! Do, like, whatever it was you did to woo him in the first place! Make him a seashell necklace or something! I don’t know! Fucking _make up!_ This is tearing my world apart!” 

Chanyeol thinks. He’s never really thought about how he might go about winning Junmyeon back, but she does give him an interesting idea. 

“Oh my god, is that the sound of your brain gears turning?” Sandhya says excitedly, and she leaps off her stool, grabs a bag, and starts shoveling doughnuts into it. “Here, here, free of charge, go get your man.”  
  


♆

He goes to the whistling rocks in the evening, and he brings the singing stone, his guitar slung over his back. _Take it back to the beginning_, he tells himself. _Make him see._

Chanyeol sets himself up, and he starts to play the stone, momentarily distracted by the strange, beautiful tone of it before he starts to play a melody he remembers Junmyeon singing. He’ll hear it. He’ll know. 

Chanyeol plays as the sun sets around him, as the cold settles in, and he breathes out white as he starts to shiver. His knuckles start to ache from tapping them against the hard stone, so he shifts to the guitar, fingerpicking the song he remembers Junmyeon humming back to him. The song they used to play together. 

They used to make music together. They could make music again. 

_If you just listened to me_, Chanyeol thinks. _If only you would hear what I had to say._

After he begins to play the guitar, it doesn’t take long. Chanyeol sees the movement of the water, foreign, not natural like the rolling of the waves. Chanyeol tracks it as it shifts, spears until he is right back where he belongs. Right in front of Chanyeol. 

Junmyeon rises slowly from the water, and when he speaks, Chanyeol wonders how he went so long without hearing his voice. 

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?” 

“I came to talk to you,” he says, and he continues to pluck the strings, the background music calm and slow. “I came to talk about what happened.” 

“Chanyeol, I—” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Chanyeol says. “I know you basically said all you have to say to me, and I—look, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt my feelings, but I’m not just... I’m not gonna let this only be your decision. If we have to fight about it, then we have to fight.” 

Junmyeon stares at him, and his eyes water. He looks too beautiful, too sad, and Chanyeol wonders if he’s being too pushy, if he’s making something out of nothing. 

_Never call this nothing_, he tells himself. _He’s everything to you._

Junmyeon blinks, long dark lashes spilling a tear down his cheek, and Chanyeol knows, knows in that moment, that it would be worth it no matter what. Junmyeon sinks down beneath the water, and Chanyeol waits for him to come back up, but he’s left waiting for a while. 

“I’m gonna come back every day,” Chanyeol says, doesn’t even care if he’s not speaking to anyone. “Every day, I swear to God. I don’t care how insane that makes me sound. I don’t care. I know we belong together, and I’m not gonna let you throw everything away.” 

The water moves. Chanyeol grins.  
  


♆

From that day on, Chanyeol honors his promise, goes every evening with the stone and the guitar, and he waits until Junmyeon rises up, each day more frustrated than the last.

“You should leave!” Junmyeon says. “You are wasting your time! Nothing will change!” 

“You might change your mind,” Chanyeol says serenely. “You might get back together with me.” 

Junmyeon knits his brows together, entirely angry, and Chanyeol thinks that might be a good thing. He’s never seen Junmyeon get angry before. Anger is more closely related to passion than it lets on. 

“I will not let you do something so frivolous as this.” 

“It’s not your choice,” Chanyeol says. “I get a say in it.” 

“If you got a say, then you would throw your life away.” 

“For you?” Chanyeol says. “Every time.” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes as he sinks back underneath the waves, and Chanyeol goes back to his music, hoping that Junmyeon likes the song.  
  


♆

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let himself get distracted. He is a man on a mission, and he is determined to get him back by any means necessary.

“It sounds vaguely violent when you say it that way,” Junmyeon says primly, nose in the air. 

“Is that what it takes?” Chanyeol smiles, and he pats his hands on the wood of his guitar. “A little rough and tumble attitude?” Junmyeon splashes with his tail, an icy-cold wave threatening at the side of Chanyeol’s jeans. “Hey, watch it. I got dressed up just for you.” 

“You say that every day,” Junmyeon accuses. 

“And every day, I tell the truth,” Chanyeol says. “Let’s get back together. I like you so much.” 

“_Chanyeol_,” Junmyeon whines. 

“What? Was it something I said? That I love you?” 

Junmyeon disappears not long after, but Chanyeol doesn’t tire of telling him.  
  


♆

Snows start to fall, mid-December, and they run circles around each other. The same arguments, the same bullshit. He’s beginning to wonder if it’s going anywhere, but anytime he says something stupid and Junmyeon looks surprised to find himself laughing, Chanyeol realizes there is some movement there. He just hopes it’s forward momentum and not backwards.

It is a particularly blustery day, ugly and cold, and Chanyeol thinks it’s getting to him. All the cold. 

Junmyeon turns his back on him yet again, sinking beneath the crashing waves. 

“Hey,” Chanyeol says before getting frustrated, his voice going hoarse as he shouts. “Hey! What, you’re just gonna ignore me? After everything?” 

The water shifts and moves, but it is no different than normal, the normal shifting, the normal moving. 

“I know you can hear me,” Chanyeol says. “And you’re being a coward. I’m sorry to say, but you’re being a coward.” 

He knows that it will practically drag Junmyeon to the surface, an inflatable life-preserver tied around his neck. 

Predictably, Junmyeon rises, breaks through the still glass surface of the water like he’s shattering a mirror. He does not look angry. Mostly, he just looks sad. That’s even worse. He doesn’t want pity. He wants a confrontation. 

“I’m sorry, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says. “I just don’t think this conversation will lead to anything productive. We only serve to hurt each other when we speak.” 

“Because we keep making the same stupid points! Over and over! We’re just repeating the same conversation over and over again. We need to talk about what matters!” 

Junmyeon sighs. “Chanyeol…” He looks as if he wants to say something, but he shakes his head like he thinks better of it, and then starts to sink back beneath the surface of the water. 

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol calls. “Junmyeon, I love you.” 

He can’t resist that, the siren’s song of love, and he rises again, the frown on his face worsening. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

He feels like he’s going out of his mind. How could he say that? How could he even think it? Doesn’t matter? What else could matter? 

“Of course it matters.” He feels his eyes go wide, his face twisting with anger. “Of _course_ it matters. It’s the only thing that matters.” 

“How could you say that when you know it isn’t true?” Junmyeon says. “When you know that my whole life, I’ve wanted to free my people, to break the curse?” He looks so multifaceted in that moment, twisted and gnarled and still beautiful, still effortlessly good. “You don’t know what it is like for us. Knowing that there is a world above that we were made to love, a world that we cannot ever know.”

“You can know it,” Chanyeol whimpers. “I’ll help you know it.” 

“It is a farce,” Junmyeon says, and tears leak from his eyes. 

“Please.” He squeezes his eyes shut, so tight that he sees stars before he opens them on Junmyeon’s face again. “I can’t imagine loving anyone but you.” 

“Nor I.” 

It catches Chanyeol by surprise, the sound of the words, and he blinks as though he’s misheard. 

“Y-You can’t?” 

“I will not love again.” He admits it, and it sounds so maleficent to Chanyeol’s ears. “I’ve thought about trying. About going to the surface next year. About trying to find someone. But you… in the early morning sun, in the light of the moon, you are all I can think of. Perhaps, with time, my feelings will change. That’s what everyone tells me, of course. That time heals all wounds. But this wound—,” he shakes his head, “I cannot begin to understand how anything will heal it.” 

“Please,” Chanyeol says. “D-Doesn’t that… that doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“It means that the key to breaking the curse is someone else.” He puts his hands on the rock, bracing himself against the water-soft surface. “So I shouldn’t go sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ve got nothing to do with the prophecy now, and so I don’t need to muck about in matters of love.” 

“M-_muck about_?” Chanyeol says, vaguely horrified. “Is that… is that really what it was? Just fooling around?” 

Junmyeon begins to sink down underneath the water, like he can’t bear to stay in Chanyeol’s presence anymore. But Chanyeol is quick to grab his hand, touch him the way he used to so easily. It comes with a price now, a look of pain coming from Junmyeon’s eyes, stemming from his heart. He looks down. Looks sullen. 

“I love you,” Chanyeol says. 

But it does nothing. Junmyeon pays it no mind. 

“I _love you._ And don’t… don’t fucking act like that doesn’t mean anything. Don’t turn around like it’s obvious. I fucking love you. I _really_ love you. Every fucking part of you. A-And you make my life complicated… ever since I met you, I feel like things have gotten more and more complicated, because I keep finding new ways to love you which means new ways for you to hurt me.” 

That is what grabs his attention, apparently, because he jerks his head up sharply, eyes wet.

"Chanyeol, please," Junmyeon says, and he is pleading with every inch of him. "Please, you're making this too difficult for the both of us."

"No," Chanyeol says. "No, that's... I won't let you do this. Not again."

"Chanyeol—"

"I _love you_," Chanyeol cries, and the tears slip down his face, ocean water, the seas flooding him. "I love you no matter how complicated things get. Because I like when things are complicated with you. I like that love is complicated. I like that you challenge me. I like that you... that you fucking _changed_ me. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Junmyeon looks down once more, his wet hair hanging into his eyes, and Chanyeol slips down off the rock, feet digging into the silt of the ocean floor. Junmyeon's hands come to the sides of Chanyeol's shirt, and as the fabric soaks through, ice cold and impossibly jarring. Chanyeol immediately starts to shiver, nearly screams with the cold. 

Junmyeon clutches Chanyeol’s shirt between his hands like he isn't sure whether he means to pull Chanyeol in or push him away. Either way, Chanyeol doesn't mind; it's been so long since he felt Junmyeon's hands on him, so close to him.

"O-Of course it counts for something, you know very well how much you mean to me," Junmyeon says. "But I'm trying to be strong."

"You don't have to be strong." Junmyeon's eyes lock with Chanyeol's, cool with the water. "You don't have to be anything. Just—please, baby."

"Chanyeol." A hand comes to Chanyeol's chest, palm flat against Chanyeol's heart. "I can't. I-I've missed you so much, but I know that it's—" 

"It's what?" He grabs Junmyeon by the chin when he tries to look away, look back to the water. Chanyeol’s teeth chatter, and he realize he must look so stupid, must look so desperate. "W-What is it? I mean, do you really think it's not worth all the trouble? Do you really think _we're_ not worth it? Tell me. If you think we're not worth it, then tell me. One more time, say it to me while you look me in the eyes."

Junmyeon's eyes hold Chanyeol's gaze for a terrible, tense minute, and Chanyeol wonders if maybe this is really the end of it all. But he should know better by now. There is something distinctly eternal about them.

Because Junmyeon’s eyes, they flick down, and Chanyeol hesitates no longer.

He closes the gap between them, and he kisses Junmyeon so fiercely that it all breaks down around them. It is hot, so hot that it feels like summer around them. 

There is no more time for anything besides this, besides them. He holds Junmyeon’s face in his hands, tells him _You are it for me. You are my everything. You are all that I desire, all that I’ve ever wanted. No matter how hard it gets, no matter what the world throws at us, we will overcome it. Because love might not conquer all, but you and I will. You and I, we matter._

It is when Junmyeon breaks, when the tears fall from his shut eyes, that Chanyeol feels it, feels the effervescent magic that builds between them bubble out around them. The tears hit the surface of the water, and it turns the black ocean water a silvery blue, glittering and bright. The ocean turns warm as the spot of silver and blue starts to spread through the water like spots of ink on a clean sheet of paper, and they both watch in wonder as the magic moves. 

“W-What’s happening?” Junmyeon asks, staring at the ocean sparkling and fizzing at their waists. He looks up at Chanyeol, fists on his chest. “What are you doing?” 

“What am _I_ doing?” Chanyeol asks, and the cold, it’s nowhere to be found. “What are _you_ doing?” 

“I-I’m not doing anything. Nothing at all.” His voice is hushed, and they watch as it moves, sweeping like paint across a canvas. “Chanyeol, what—oh no.” He points over Chanyeol’s shoulder, and Chanyeol turns, moves to watch. 

A large ball of light rises up from the middle of the ocean, far enough away that Chanyeol can barely see it. But as it moves into the sky, he can see it shivering, tense with brightness. It rises, rises, almost like a bird soaring into the sky. Chanyeol squints to keep his eyes trained on it, can practically see wings sprouting from the radiance. 

Suddenly, there is a great cracking sound, the splitting of light itself, a thin line of impossibly bright white, an explosion of illumination and noise so heavy that it could break the world, and then, there is quiet. 

Much, much quiet.  
  


♆

He hears birds.

Seagulls, to be exact. 

When he opens his eyes, he immediately notes that it is a beautiful day. 

Chanyeol sits up, and he looks around. The dawn is still breaking, all the colors of the morning streaked across the sky. The sun, orange and blaring, begins its rise, slowly warming him. The winter has been so harsh, but the world is pleasant, a strange warm snap in the midst of all that cold. It does not make sense. It doesn’t make any sense. 

He looks next to him, and there, eyes closed, sand wet in his hair, is Junmyeon, still sleeping. Chanyeol looks down, looks at his body, and it is with shock that he realizes that Junmyeon has his legs and no tail. 

“J-Junmyeon,” he whispers, whipping his head around, looking to see if there is anyone on the beach. But it is just the two of them. “Junmyeon.” Chanyeol grabs him by the shoulder, gently nudging him until his eyes flutter open. “Junmyeon, wake up. It’s… I don’t know. Something happened.” 

Junmyeon blinks several times, looking up at Chanyeol like he’s waking from a particularly good dream, and when he sits up, he kicks his legs in tandem a little before realizing. 

He looks to Chanyeol, shocked, and he has never looked more beautiful when he stares down at his legs in happy awe. 

“W-What’s going on?” Junmyeon asks, running his hands flat over his thighs. “What did you do?” 

“What did _I_ do?” Chanyeol looks around as if he’s being Punk’d, as though Ashton Kutcher is right around the rock, waiting to jump out. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Junmyeon moves to stand up, to stand over him, but apparently his legs are weak, apparently something strange happened in the night because as soon as he gets up, his legs buckle, and he falls flat on top of Chanyeol’s body. 

“Oh goodness,” Junmyeon says, and he struggles to push himself back up, only managing to rest more of his weight over Chanyeol. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m so exhausted, I don’t—” 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says, and he rests his hands on the small of Junmyeon’s back. “You can… you can rest.” 

He looks into Chanyeol’s eyes, and there is a confusing moment, a moment that feels stretched across time, and when Junmyeon pushes forward, captures Chanyeol in a kiss, Chanyeol lets his head hit the sand, lets the cold creep up through his veins. They were always meant to have this. They were always meant to be this. 

Junmyeon looks so tired by the time he pulls back, withdraws, and he lays his head on Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol strokes a hand down his back, lulls him to sleep. 

It is not long before Chanyeol falls back to sleep, the sun laid over top of them both like a sheet.  
  


♆

_The world is made new with a shiny, yellow gold sunrise. They are in the water and they are naked, the two of them, and their skin slips against each other. Chanyeol wraps his legs around Junmyeon’s waist, and for some reason, he can’t see below the surface of the water. He can’t see what Junmyeon’s bottom half looks like. _

_It doesn’t matter though. It’s never mattered. _

_They hold each other there in the midst of the eternal dawn, light that stretches on into yellow, folds it in the way you whip cream into custard, a bright white sun into the golden sky. _

_“Don’t be afraid,” Junmyeon says, and he whispers it to the hollow of Chanyeol’s neck. “You can rely on me. You can always rely on me.” _

_Chanyeol pulls back from him, sees sunsets on the tops of his cheeks, flowers at his lips, and he leans forward just to taste them._

“Chanyeol.” 

He doesn’t want to wake up. It was too beautiful. He doesn’t want to leave the dream. Doesn’t want it to be a dream at all. He wants to go back, but he’s already grabbing at nothing, the smoke of it slipping between his fingers, and he frowns, pouts. He opens his eyes, and oh, the dream was real. It wasn’t a dream at all. There he is, staring down at Chanyeol with cool green eyes, a smile on his face. 

“Are you awake, my love?” Junmyeon asks. 

“I think I’m still dreaming.” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, and he rids them of the distance, swooping down to take Chanyeol’s lips for his own. Chanyeol watches him, can’t even think straight enough to close his eyes. Junmyeon pushes himself up, smiles again down at Chanyeol, and he can’t understand. Doesn’t understand. 

“What happened?” Chanyeol whispers. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s broken,” Junmyeon says, and he rights them both, points to the water. “Look.” 

The beach is clear, but the ocean is full of people. They rise from the cold blue waters, and they take to the shore, people of supreme beauty, people Chanyeol has never seen before in the small town of Aria. 

“We broke the curse,” Junmyeon says softly. “Somehow, somehow, we... we did it! It was always us. It was… it was always meant to be us.” 

Chanyeol’s heart swells with a staggering, fantastic exhilaration the likes of which he’s never known. Junmyeon stares at him with understanding, a look that says _Yes, we share in this._

“But… but how?” He stutters for a moment, lips and the tip of his tongue twisted. “B-B—How did we… aren’t we—” 

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon says, shaking his head, the sand in his hair falling to the beach. “I don’t know.” He watches as the people flood the beach, rejoicing, and he smiles at them brightly before he takes Chanyeol’s hand in his. “I don’t know what we did. But we did it.” 

“Do you think it had anything to do with the prophecy?” Chanyeol asks. “With the fated lovers?” 

Junmyeon turns, eyes bright with tears. 

“Does it matter?” 

Chanyeol looks out at the families who embrace, the children who stumble and fall to the sand on new legs. He looks at the way they celebrate. The way they cheer. The day is bright, endless, and Junmyeon wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s body, his face tucked neatly against Chanyeol’s chest once more. 

“No,” Chanyeol says with a hint of finality. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> To my prompter: I can't thank you enough for this idea—what a fun prompt! I had a blast writing this fic, and I'm so happy you prompted it. I hope you enjoyed the result, even though it sort of went off the rails along the way. 
> 
> To the readers: Thank you so much for giving this fic a shot. It means so much to me. I really hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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